Catching Idle Butterflies

A thought so deep, I can�t get out.

*Note: This is not a serious entry. This is how I make fun of myself when I worry about things I know I shouldn’t. It helps clear my cobweb-infested-and-tend-toward-paranoia-brain.

Sometimes I try too hard; I want too much . . . no not want . . . expect too much.

I wait at my door, and though I see many pass, few give me a second glance. When they do it’s fleeting and they move on their way.

I go inside and look around wondering if there’s a nasty odor permeating my place. I sniff. Yep, it smells a little stale. Perhaps it’s a sign to people’s nostrils, “Enter here if you want to be bored stupid, or walk away with mold and mildew adhering to every inch of exposed skin, and eagerly suck the life force out of you.”

It makes me sad, because I work so hard to make this place interesting, even pretty so people will want to return day after day. Many times I come away pleased of my efforts, other times not. But still, I initially think “People will come, and perhaps enjoy it even if I don’t.”

I didn’t like how my first entry for today turned out. I subconsciously smelled the musty odor, but didn’t think long about it. I figured I’m not the only judge. Someone still may appreciate and even enjoy what I did.

So far that’s not the case. People keep walking by, some specifically doing their best not to make eye contact, let alone pause to take a peek.

I sit on my step with a sigh. I’m tempted to turn out the lights and close shop for the day. Perhaps I should, instead spend my time elsewhere, forgetting all my worries, justified or not.

*Jumps Tracks*

Do you ever have a day when nothing you say comes out right, as though you caught some acute stuttering disease?

I’m that way today, only it’s not my mouth having trouble staying in the proper gear, it’s my fingers. They can’t seem to translate what’s going on in my brain.

Or, more likely, my fingers are doing just fine, it’s my brain that’s cross-circuiting. It’s all my fault, too. I didn’t take very good care of my brain last night. I didn’t go to bed until after 1am, and even then I couldn’t sleep. I think I got maybe three hours.

Not until this morning did I figure out it’s because I drank some coffee at 6:30pm. I’ve found the older I get, the more sensitive I am to caffeine, yet I keep forgetting until I once again have to endure a night of little sleep and an overworked brain.

Tonight, no caffeine, so maybe tomorrow my rested brain will come up with something that will allure you to me .

I have to admit, though, I love the title of this entry! Couldn't tell you why, unless it's another sign I need quality sleep, and lots of it.