I’m calling a halt to my 100 in 100 because it’s making me crazy having to count up how many posts I am behind because I made so many deals with the devil , also known as Wimpy deals as in I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today.
This is a mouthful and it should be since it’s not the first time that I couldn’t let impulse and bravado sit still for the five minutes it would take to figure out something is a dumb proposition. It came to me several months ago in one of those Mickey Rooney moments I often have. Hey! Let’s put on a show! Let’s do 100 in 100 again. Will I never learn that not everything that was interesting in life (which the first 100 in 100 in 2013 was) bears repeating (says the mother of four children).
It was fun while it lasted, painting the sets and making the costumes, but now it’s on the meh list along with cupcakes and big neck scarves.
Today, while I was swimming, it came to me. I was boring myself. You’re not that interesting, Jan, I told myself. You’re only occasionally funny and just once in a great while hit a home run. Yes, I answered, but if I didn’t write all that dreck, would I get to the homer? What is the dreck to home run ratio, I ask you?
It’s not like I only wrote half of the 100. I think I’m in the nineties. It doesn’t matter because the 100th day was actually September 13th (two days ago) which was my mother’s birthday so coming up short is sort of apropos, not to get all psychoanalytic.
Anyway, to sum it up, to pull it all together, and get to the bottom line, I need to get out from under this dumb dare and just be random again.
So my dial’s set back to random. It’s my best setting.