Imagine this – I enter my bedroom. On the other side of the room, my closet door clicks and swings open. I watch for a cat to come out, but none appears.
I wait. When I inspect the closet, there is no one (thing) there. I put it all down to the change in air pressure as I enter the room. I’ll check out that theory later. But it gets me thinking about writing, or blogging, as I need a new subject for a post. I could write about ghosts! Or about reviving a previous manuscript by completely revising it! I go downstairs and exercise for 25 minutes. Then I make a pot of tea and read a little. Edward Bloor’s, Story Time. It’s delightful.
Now I understand my ghost. The Ghost of Procrastination has taken up residency in my closet. He has made himself comfortable on the bar where I hang my good intentions and shuffles among my shoes of postponement. This is not a good thing. I need a writing exorcist.
Excuse me. I need to sort out my closet, and I don’t mean getting a bag together for Goodwill.
PS I still think a new story about a ghost is a good idea.