I Have No Excuse...Here's My Excuse

I guess I sort of feel like sharing my life (at least the funnier parts that I have license to edit creatively) on this blog is--with every post--sort of like going to one's highschool reunion.

It should be noted that I have not attended any of my highschool reunions to date.

What I mean to say is: by posting, I share the innermost workings of my family...and my miiiind (a la Franc the wedding coordinator in "Father of the Bride").  I hold a microscope up to all of our triumphs and foibles, and I say, look at what we are doing!  Aren't we cute?  Aren't we funny?  Aren't we unique?  The whole point of sharing these anecdotes was to entertain you with how special we are...how special our experiences are (albeit weird, pathetic, shocking, and bizarre).

It has been as impossible for me to edit our current living situation into something worth posting on Momglomerate as it might be, say, for a person who has gained 400 pounds, been to jail 5 to 7 times, is thrice divorced, and appeared on Jerry Springer (insert your own unimpressive resume items non grata here), to attend their highschool reunion with their head held high.

Sidenote:  At the time of my five year reunion, I had quit college after attending three separate institutions, had a child out of wedlock, had been recently divorced, was living above my parents' garage, and was unsuccessfully trying to start a business, which would eventually fail....impressively.  In such dire straits, there was no way for me to present my situation in a way that would engender anything but pity from my peers, who were doubtless recent recipients of shiny college diplomas...on their way to starting graduate school or traveling the globe or embarking on fabulously exciting professional careers or planning their proper (unpregnant) marriages that would last forever--or at least longer than mine had.

Back to the present...come on, try to keep up, why don't you?  GOSH!  Currently, I'm working at a tiny table that my legs do not fit under smashed in the midst of the chaos that reigns supreme in my parents' office: ergonomically correct it is not; efficient it is not.  I access the internet through a little cord that is directly attached to the parental cable internet box thingy.  It is like a mini-analogy of my life: tethered to my generous parents by an as-yet un-snipped umbilicus.  I reckon that it must be akin to being re-virginized (which I have recently heard of) how I have seemingly re-entered the proverbial womb.

My independence--along with all of our stuff--is jam-packed into our storage unit, awaiting the glorious day--hark, October 18th--when we can move out of here and into our own space.  (At the risk of sounding ungrateful....and I'm definitely not.  Ungrateful, that is.  Thanks parents!!)  A space where someone doesn't say loudly things exactly like, "Someone used my pen!  I found it on the magazine beside the computer, and it is supposed to be on the base of the computer monitor!  And it's lid was OFF!  You CANNOT use my pen.  It was very expensive.  Like hundreds of dollars.  ARRRGGH!"

You try to find the inspiration to write a funny blog post in a room where a pen of that magnitude resides (on the base of the computer monitor).

I have no excuse for not posting regularly.

But if I did, that would be it.  The pen...or more precisely, its owner.  Sapping my creative energies.