750 words

It's 0642 and I'm writing this with every intention of publishing said words in my darling little blog that I'm so neglecting. I go out of my way not to end my sentences with prepositions. I'm weird that way. Of which, I do not know. That's what proper writing makes you sound like, no? I don't want to be that person. I'm just writing, but this writing is different, but the same. I'm in a wired mood. I've been awake for hours. I have car problems. I have a lot of problems. They pile up if you ignore them. The funny thing is that they are all invented and so insignificant, but they occupy your mind. That's the way of the world.

I'm writing here why again? Oh yeah, this is day 1193 which is pretty amazing. I'm so over this thing already. I don't think that writing 750 words every day is doing me any good. They're talking about the warm winter on the weather. And people are still denying that there's climate change? I can't believe how people can ignore what's right in front of them. I'm doing it while I write. I have to go start the car. I write start the car because I'm optimistic that it's some stupid sensor thing. I hope. I pray. I supplicate myself.

I want to go to Publix, where shopping is a pleasure. I need to buy food stuffs. That's it. I wrote it. Food stuffs. That's what I need. I have a lot of food but not enough food stuffs. I needs some more produce. The produce gets consumed. I was going to make some fresh squeezed juice. Maybe that can be my reward when I come back from taking the car for service. I so hope that I can just drive there and not have to be towed. I'm not for tow trucks. I am averse to their wily ways. I want to be done with this thing already. I'm glad that they did the fuel pump. That's when they charged me way too much. I think Raoul remembered right that it was well over $1000 for a fuel pump? I think not. Then I had the water pump changed. I'm over the things going wrong with this car yet I've been ranting for years about the same things. That's just cray.

Uh oh, did I just admit that I'm cray? I knew already. That's why I write to exorcise the cray nest. That's sweet. Dude, I'm already just rambling like the rose that I are. That's why I don't write so much any more. After awhile, it all comes out the same. I'm channeling a talk show host. You remember Montell Williams, no? I do. That's what it's like to be an oldster. There are parts of my life that seem like another place and time. But that's because they are, Blanche. Never mind, Edith. Just get to the point.

That's what I'm trying to do. So many times, I just start rambling to get to the magical 750 mark. Also, lots of times I just feel like I'm trying to beat Raoul coming back with the morning coffee. Yeah, that's part of my daily routine. Raoul delivers coffee every morning. Sometimes, I even get oatmeal along with it. I'm lucky. I know it. Even though sometimes it's easy to take it all for granted.

I'm about 200 words away from the finish line. I can feel the finish coming quickly. I want to write like the wind. I'm a good typist. I have the words. I just have to get them out and onto the page. The page is blank ahead of me. I can do this. It's just a matter of time. I know not what I'll write, I just do it. That's the way I should go, you know. It's not about the quality. It's totally quantity.

One hundred more words. And then I'm done. I am surprised that writing 750 words is one of those things that I'm great at just awfulizing about endlessly for no apparent reason. I'm silly that way. Shut up, silly. That's the trick. Just be quiet. After I'm done with this hurling, that's the ticket. I can feel over and out, I'm gone coming quickly. I'm watching the counter tick by and soon I'll copy the whole block of typing, save it for today's words and then paste it into my neglected blog. Have a great day. I'm going to try!

There you go. I'm back! By the by, I just went back and saw that I typed those 750 words in 13 minutes. That's not a bad track.