this is your brain on children

I watched the cheddar on my bagel bubble and brown through the door of the toaster oven tonight and thought, {i feel ya, pal}.

It wasn't a bad day.   Nothing {happened}.  No particular thing made me do it, but I cried.  While sitting and thinking of the bajillions of things I wanted to do with this peaceful quiet part of the day.  But I couldn't move.  My body refused.  My brain laughed in the face of my creative spirit, a sort of {i dare you}.  If it necessitated a brain cell, it was out.

So this is what I have left.  Fingers. Keys. The simplest of connections possible. Letters in words in an order that may or may not make sense.

As my mom would say, {too pooped to pop}.



* aren't those pointy parentheses prettier than quotation marks? i'm onto something.