|This is actually a photo of my thread drawer|
after editing it in Picnik.
I was supposed to get myself to bed early on Tuesday evening. Didn’t happen. The phone bill arrived in the mail. My son was significantly over on his minutes which necessitated a discussion. My daughter was considering studying abroad next year. More discussion. The Iowa Caucuses were yesterday evening. Lots more discussion between me and my husband. I had planned to spend a quiet evening reading blogs, writing comments, and composing a post for today that had something to do with thread, which is my one little word. My brain was fried from all the talk. As I wrote, I began to think about the nature of oral discussion and how different it is from texts, tweets, emails, or writing comments on a blog.
Comments on blogs, even when threaded (ahhhh, there is the link to thread) feel very different than verbal conversations. Talking with living breathing people can be tiring. Then again, maybe it was the topics and who I was talking with that drained my desire to write or do anything else on Tuesday. While trying to compose this post I was interrupted by both of my teenagers several times. I guess I should have been glad they wanted to talk to me at all. Then my husband decided I should watch him watch the TV then pouted when I didn't drop everything for this obviously thrilling activity. By the end of the evening my energy was thread thin.