I’m having a problem with this blog thing. In the beginning I blogged only on weekends and in the evening, after 5pm. I was careful to blog only for a few minutes. Then one evening I stayed up until 2am checking out blogs and setting up more blogs (one is never enough you know). I started going to work five minutes early to sign on for a quick blog check. I spent every break and lunch hour blogging. Now I keep the blogger sites open all day behind spreadsheets so I can check in anytime there is a free moment or when the boss isn’t looking. I go home, turn on the computer and search the internet for more blogs. I watch TV behind blogs. I eat while blogging. I dream about blogs. I think about blogs in the shower. If I’m not writing blog I’m reading blog. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. My husband has suggested writing to Dr. Phil. Maybe tomorrow. I’ve got to catch up on my blogs now.

Is it going to rain or not? I walk to work this morning. It doesn’t feel like it’s raining so I opt not to put up my ratty old umbrella. Half a block later I can’t see through my glasses. I can feel my hair curling. So I relent. I press the quick release button on the umbrella. The umbrella lurches open, spokes only partially extended, the fabric drooping like a wet circus tent. I reach into the center spindle for that thumb-pinching gadget that releases the spokes. It nabs my thumb as I toy with it. Finally it gives and I’m under the shelter of an ugly gray tent. Meanwhile I am distracted for a second too long. My foot lands in a four-inch puddle left from last night’s storm. I resist the urge to shout unladylike expletives. I wonder if I should have driven the two blocks to work today. Then I remember. This is one of those days where you turn on your windshield wipers to the tune of a blackboard screech and blindly aim, through pea soup windows, for the middle of the road.