humor · life

the great debate

Coming up with ideas is a crap shoot. I’ve no clue where they come from or where to look when I need one. Ideas have a mind all their own and follow their own sneaky, backstairs schedule. Sometimes they drop in, but more often they don’t.

You can’t force them; I’ve tried. It scares them off.  Ideas, I’ve decided, are like birds, very, very skittery. Attempt a sudden grab and, fwip, away it goes. Gah, so frustrating and so typical. The better plan is to ignore how desperately you need a spark, a notion, any sign of brain activity whatsoever and go on about your day. Which, for me, means sitting on my keister and obsessing over stuff I can’t control.

Which I was doing when, shazam!, two ideas landed in my brainpan at the very same time. Lucky, lucky me. Two genuine, bona fide possibilities.  Oh, joy, oh, rapture, right? Wrong. I couldn’t decide between them. Each had merits. I dithered and fussed, swinging between both options. It would have been easier to draw the winner from a hat.

Sides were taken and a fight broke out. One side demanded Idea A, the other side insisted on Idea B. Names were called, punches were thrown, and synapses were breached. In the end, I was forced to raise the white flag and surrender the field before my head exploded.   

Now I need an aspirin the size of a yo-yo. Sorry for the snafu. Please come back again when order is restored.

copyright © 2017 the whirly girl


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