Oct 12, 2017

I don’t know how it even happened because I’m ten months in and, as far as I know, I haven’t even missed a day. But somehow I got out of the habit of blogging. I keep forgetting until right before I go to sleep.

At the beginning of the year I thought I’d write posts with all this worthy substance, but as a tired, distracted mom who was pregnant for the first half of the year and who’s had a new baby for the rest of it, I realized real soon I didn’t have the brain power to write something worthwhile every single day. Can anybody? Write something truly worthwhile every day? I mean, I hope somebody can, but I don’t think it’s me. I believe I could write okay or even good things every day, but I think real worthwhile writing is really only born out of re-reading and revisions and, most importantly, a real purpose or passion or at the very least a good moment of inspiration. And I don’t think the goal to write every day alone will get me there. 

That being said, I loved writing houses and never forgot a day when I was writing those. I looked forward to it and loved it and stopped thinking about blogging as a chore for the first time in months. But then I just sort of fell out of it. Nobody seemed to really notice or care or even like them much (ok, besides you, mom), but all the same I’d like to fall back into them. I’d like to walk beautiful and regular and charming and typical 70’s neighborhoods and take photos and write down their made-up stories. Stitch their imagined facades. Create a gallery of homes. Wouldn’t that be nice? I’m not sure it would serve any purpose, but I think I’d like to walk through it and read every plaque. 

Perhaps someday.