Put a bird on it

This morning, as I ventured down the block for my weekly writing get away, I was confronted with a gauntlet that I was really not willing to pass through.  Look at the accompanying photo and see if you don't agree.  It puts another spin to the Portlandia "put a bird on it" culture.  There are some occasions where I might be willing to chance my timing, however this was not one of them...not after last weeks attempt at writing.  Last week, after settling in to my chair with my big red cup of caffeine perfection, I was hit with some writing inspiration that, in my estimation, hasn't occurred for me in recent memory.  It might be years now.  I had a burst of words and wit and insight and it all flowed together like some cosmically orchestrated divine plan.  You'll just have to take my word for it...because....after about 45 minutes of channeling from the Great Author himself, my post went blank.  Now in today's technologically advanced, plug and play, user and idiot friendly technology, this should not have been much of an issue.  I have autosave on this for just such an occasion.  Whether I want it to or not, this modern marvel saves as a draft anything that I input...always has, always should.  It saves incredibly boring and mundane crap.  It saves elementary gibberish.  It saves words that I hope to never have to read again.  Not this time.  This time, I indeed have a file called "draft" waiting for me...it too was empty.  I don't know if you've ever had this happen to you?  I don't know how you handled it.  I know how I did...I didn't .  I could not recover.  I packed up.  I downed my caramel latte like a college shot of "jack" and went on my way.  I'm really trying to be routine once more with these posts, I really am.  Every week...whether I or anyone else need it, has been my goal.  You won't find one for last week though.  It doesn't mean that I didn't exist.  I did.  I lived, I loved, I dreamt, I wrote...there's just no evidence...at least not the writing part.  I hope that there's plenty of evidence for everything else.

So....on my way this morning to give it another shot, perhaps you have a better understanding of why I took this sign from above and altered my route.  I'm not at Red Cup...I don't even have a Red Cup.  I'm at my familiar and safe second home known as Hotwire, with a drink skillfully and tastefully prepared by people who love me.  I'm at the end of this post and there's still words on the page...good choice.  Life is good, I'm sure you understand .