Tapped

Watching the clock as the minutes tick down toward midnight and the voice in my head nagging, "Don't forget, don't forget, don't forget. What are you going to write? Any idea yet? Any thoughts?"

A million thoughts actually. About drunkenness and the obligations of those who watch one drink. About presents both giving and receiving. About parties and popularity. About cooking and cleaning and other domestic pursuits. About my pretty, pretty new hair. About money. About pecan pie.

Can't get anything going, though.

Let this suffice as the clearest glimpse you'll get over the 30 days into my true weekend brain. Lots of ideas, little or no follow through.