It used to be my dream to be a popular, daily blogger like Dooce, or Mrs. G. Each day I would wake up with a hangover germ of a witty idea, and couldn’t wait to head downstairs, into the basement, where my computer sat, waiting patiently…

The problem was is getting there.

As any passive aggressive woman, indentured servant parent, or British Banker knows, mornings are fraught with purpose yes, and practicality with peril… 

well maybe peril is somewhat of a dramatic word… perhaps distractions would be a better choice. 

There is this

and this

and…  (to be continued)