Talk Yourself Into It

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A Tueday morning in January, in Buffalo, with a long day of work staring me in the face.

"How are you this morning?" the convenience store clerk asked me as I handed her the money for the newspapers.

"I'm trying to talk myself into it," I said.

She laughed. "That's a great answer," she said. "Seems like I do that most every day."

I don't know, something about this time of year - the body seems to ache, the idea of how I was going to change in the coming year doesn't seem that exciting, thirty some days until pitches and catchers report, it's always freaking cold - my golf clubs have to be freezing in the garage.

The Mega Millions is tonight, but the prospect of getting one number doesn't thrill me.

The news is the horrible state of Haiti, Jay Freaking Leno, and the Bills hiring another stiff for a coach. Did I mention it's cold?

Still, I talked myself into it and had a pretty productive day. I even laughed a little with Howard.

"What're your plans for tonight?" my wife asked.

"Judge Judy with the blanket on my legs and brickbreaker in my hand," I said.

Yet I feel as if the drive is returning a bit - I'll probably write well over the weekend, and tomorrow, I'll have a different answer for the clerk.

"How are you today?" she'll ask.

"Fantastic, stupendous, wonderful! And how are you?"

All right, maybe not - the Bills did hire Chan Gailey.

Three more years to root for the J-E-T-S, Jets, Jets, Jets.

Comments

Andrea Renee said…
SO happy to hear you're writing!
I finally started reading Nobody's Home... Jeff said he loved it.
20 January, 2010
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