Today, at approximately two-thirty p.m., my brain stopped working.
It just plain stopped. Just like that. Like the wheels were turning, synapses were firing, thoughts were translated into words - you know, the whole working-brain deal. I had one. A working brain, I mean.
And then I sat down to blog, and my brain stopped.
I'm pretty sure there was a clanking sound, and then a squeak and a thud and then there was nothing.
Come on, I thought. Pull yourself together. You have thoughts.
But I didn't. No thoughts.
I tried the whole if-you-build-it-he-will-come thing where I sat down at the computer and started typing, but I could barely manage to squeeze out a couple of sentences before my brain would do that squeaking thud thing and my fingers stopped working and I had to have a couple pieces of chocolate to recover.
Really, Andrea, I thought. REALLY. YOU HAVE NOTHING TO DO TODAY. WRITE SOMETHING.
Squeak, my brain replied. SQUEAK SQUEAK THUD.
I rose up in defiance. I returned to my computer, shoulders squared, fingers prepared to ping out something brilliant, like a haiku for bacon, or a really detailed description of the hairball Sissy coughed up.
But before I could make it to my computer the mailman delivered a postcard from my brain that said WILL BE OUT OF SERVICE INDEFINITELY, PLEASE EXCUSE THE INCONVENIENCE.
Oh, well. At least my non-functioning brain is polite.
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