Prepare a strong cup of coffee. So strong it tastes like you’re smoking a Pall Mall. Sit down at the computer. Take just a second to check your personal email. Nothing. Hit “Get Mail”. Nothing. Hey is this thing on? Nothing.
Decide to document the rainiest summer you can remember by taking a picture. Decide the best way to do this is to photograph a puddle rife with fresh drops and concentric circles. Allow yourself to imagine the award you’re going to win for a photo this good. Find the puddle, snap the picture, download. Celebrate the fact that you’re not a Nature Photographer by trade.
Check email. Nothing. Call your husband at work and tell him your dog still has diarrhea. Imply it’s all his fault. Phone your mother. Tell her your dog still has diarrhea. Intimate that the dog probably swallowed one of her chicken bones. Check email.
Screw your real friends – the ones who never email – and click on your pretend friend Heather B. Armstrong over on Dooce. Nothing new. Browse the blog anyway. Read all her posts from 2001. Read all her posts from 2003. Read about her pregnancy, her kitchen renovation. Click on photos of her husband Jon and compare him to your husband. Put your head on the desk after discovering that Dooce receives 65,000 visitors a day and pays her mortgage. Decide you’d really hate her if that mortgage wasn’t for a house in Utah. UUU-taw fer christsake.
Call your friend Karen in England and tell her your dog still has diarrhea. Suggest that it’s most likely her fault.