I woke up this morning feeling superhuman.
I had finally crawled over the hill of cow manure, for which I have chosen to describe my recent cold, and was ready to take on today.
After a quick venture around my new neighboring stores, I sat down at an empty table at Starbucks to begin a writer’s most enthused part of the day: stuffing my face with delicious treats and using this as a legit excuse to procrastinate.
With my derelict computer propped open and a blank word processor in front of me…eh, I got nothing. Writer’s block to me is no longer called Writer’s Block.
I am now planning on coyly referring to it as the Jumblas.
You will receive no exact definition for it. I made it up just now, so suffer the confusion.
Ah, the Jumblas. You’re killing me here.