Did I miss a day?
Three times I’ve not posted. Day 8, 9, and 13, didn’t get the daily snark treatment.
There’s a good reason, too.
It’s complex, and you’d need to have a masters degree in theoretical physics, with a minor in numerology, and be able to whip up a Tiramisu for a dinner party of eight, while singing Herman’s’ Hermit’s top hit from 1964…”I’m Henry VIII, I am.”
So, it may be too hard to explain.
It’s very deep.
And what’s more, you may not realize it, but I have just upped my “Obscure Reference” game to a level previously thought unattainable.
You see, there are ONLY Two People in my Friend’s List, who I think might have sussed out the reference to how all of this relates to Covid-19.
Honestly, I don’t know if either of them were buying 45’s in 1964 or collecting them later.
Hint: That was a Hint.
There’s just something about music that can make a world-wide crisis seem bearable.
Why does the sun go on shining?
Why does my heart go on beating?
Why do these eyes of mine cry?
I wake in in the morning and I wonder…
…will I get any work done, today?
The post for yesterday, should have been about the herculean effort I put in the day before in doing client’s copywriting. I managed:
– 1 page for a website
– 3 emails for an auto-responder campaign
– 4 descriptions
– I sent out 5 invoices
– And booked 3 more descriptions
Yesterday, though, was less productive.
– 1 email for the auto-responder campaign
– I remembered a description I had started for a woman who isn’t on FB much and requested I contact her with questions via Twitter, which I had not finished.
I started her description, 16-days ago. I know, because it was during my final push to get out of my unit on The Strip.
I recall, which is good for me because 16-days ago, is 23-years in middle-aged balding guy, I did have a question and I tried to log onto Twitter to ask her. It didn’t go as planned.
When I read the words on the screen that told me I had not, in fact, correctly remembered the password, I became frustrated, angry, somewhat hungry, and more interested in a nap than copywriting.
So, I went into my old bag of tricks and pulled out my favorite weapon for such matters.
The ancient sword of procrastination.
It’s a +3 to miss so badly that one decides it isn’t worth it to even bother attacking again and chooses, instead, to find the nearest pub for a pint and a bit of footie on the tele.
Yes, I procrastinate in British.
This post is an attempt to self-shame myself into going through the excruciating pain of password recovery and getting back to the poor woman’s description.
Will I succeed?
It’s hard to say at this point.
I might play a video game (Rimworld).
While the world’s number of cases continues to climb (1,827,284) as of the writing of this on April 12, 2020, and more and more people succumb to Covid-19, you can rest assured that I’ll be focused on my inane problems with a vigor that is entirely unwarranted.
One never knows, I might even get motivated.
It happens from time to time.
There is still my double-secret plan to consider.
I guess you’ll just have to tune in tomorrow, or whenever to find out if I made Day 15 better than Day 14.
Thanks for reading.
I love you all.
Brian D. Meeks
p.s. Maybe not all of you…but certainly some of you. At least one or two.
p.p.s. If you would like to guess what my obscure reference was, please leave it in the comments. If anyone gets it, they will be considered the greatest mind to have ever lived.