Thinker of things who then posts them on the Internets
“Little Kitty and I agree that whomever invented the idea of getting out of bed would not be on the list of people we would want to know, “ I thought to myself as I climbed the stairs to my bedroom carrying a bowl of peanut butter and honey in one hand and graham crackers in the other.
“Then again Little Kitty brought a giant, live pack rat* into our house last night ruining our post-‘The Ghost and Mr. Chicken’ afterglow. Little Kitty’s list of people she doesn’t want to know is most likely very different from mine. I want to know exactly zero pack rats.”
I feel pretty confident that I’m the only person in the world — save for that one truly diehard, most-likely-crazy, Don Knotts fan living in a rodent-infested swamp — who has ever written that.
That realization made me think that I needed to write it down and publish it on Facebook or somewhere. And that thought in turn lead me to realize that writing isn’t really “writing” per se, but really just thinking things up and then using proper spelling and grammar to let them out of one’s head.
That’s so much less intimidating.
But still, I would never consider myself a “writer” even though I’ve been writing things and publishing them on this blog for years. But I would happily call myself a “thinker of things who then posts them on the Internets.”
*That live pack rat was so huge that when sent to remove said rodent, Bill immediately recognized that his mouse-getting glove (yes, he has a special glove used for getting mice) wasn’t nearly big enough. Instead he got the BB gun. It did not end well for either the pack rat nor my bedroom carpet.