Sick and Inspired...

Sick today, and it's sucked...you know, to be really articulate, and then I'm sitting there watching the bath fill for a giggling little girl, and she looks up and at me and smiles, "What, Daddy?"  She keeps playing.  I smile wider.  Sick...who gives a #$%! about sick?  Sick ain't got nuthin' on this little girl.

I've been a blogless wonderkind of late...preferring to cough a rib out of whack, sleep, and ask God, Buddha, whoever, why I can't get a health related break these days.  There's never an answer, and so I read some Harry Potter, mine some excitement for Christmas, and spend money on eBay.  It's a simple existence, and humble, but not without merit.  It's easier than answering text messages from runaways and convincing angry young men and women that rehab is a good idea.  Of course, there was no way of avoiding it and so a lot of that got done from my bed today..."you can't leave the apartment, there's nowhere else to go"..."trust me, the police already know, they're going to do something soon unless you fix this"..."do you owe the guy the money?  Then you're going to have to pay him, or move to Moose Factory"...and on, and on, and on in between three hour naps.  Still, better than being face to face with hopelessness and delusion.  It's nice to phone it in once in awhile.

Somehow between sniffles today I grabbed a pencil and paper, and then the laptop and stumbled into a new header, and the makings of the most ridiculous little book ever.  Sometimes I wonder how much more of that would be happening were it not for the realities of young people's lives imploding.  I think a lot.  So why then aren't I cultivating it more, as hard as that might be.  I've said it here a dozen times, and then nothing comes of it...but what if I blog my progress?  What if I pull in all of you to force my hand.  Forget Monday Night Football...draw...write something...Maybe sick was what I needed?

Oh my...I just had a vision of dropping this laptop right into the tub.  I think it's time to scrub up and towel off.  Maybe we can nurse me back to health with some Christmas TV.  I swear I'd prefer to be sick over watching Michael Buble one more time though.