I'm a coffee junkie, I've accepted it, lived with it, understand it. I don't feel complete in the morning if I don't have a cup of java in my hand. I'd trade my kids for a tall brew of the day at Starbucks. But then, I'd trade my kids for a ball of lint, a bent paper clip and an unwrapped stick of gum, so that probably isn't a good comparison. The point is, my day doesn't start without my cup of French roast or whatever dark, road tar brew is in my cup. The addiction is as much psychological as chemical. It is my weakness, but livable, because nothing else debilitates me in such a way.
I start my morning by going through my email then moving on to my blogs. If I'm going to blog on a day, I post then start going through my blogroll, cup of joe in hand. Yesterday, I got up, did my email, then started posting. My post was immediately eaten by the blogger demons. I tried again later, dang if it happened again. So I gave up. But the complete disruption of my morning lasted throughout the day. I was irritable and lost, a pathetic wraith wandering about the house in a daze. Well, I did do the laundry and cleaned the spa. I tried reading through my blogs but most of them are bloggers as well, so it did me little good.
I don't think it is the blogging so much as the change in my routine. I know I've blogged about my penchant for routine, so I guess it is logical a ripple in the blogging routine would make me edgy. I don't remember what I was going to post about yesterday. Heaven knows I typed it enough in a vain hope that blogger would be up and at 'em. Hopefully it wasn't something important like the cure for the common cold or the winning Lotto numbers for the weekend.