Today I wrote an essay for another project, sweetly edited to come in four words underneath the 1500-word limit. So, even though this may be hard to believe, I am a little short on extra words today. This is perfectly fine – it gives me a rest and you as well. I can’t be smugly opinionated every single second of every day, and you can’t bear to read it all the time, either. Look how nice I am, thinking of you. I am nice, for a stupid-ass blogger with a major coffee habit.

I spend most of my time speechless – not lost for words, but silent. Most of the day most days, the house is empty and still except for me, the dog (who is a one-woof-only kind of girl), and the regular sounds of the endless laundry, someone outside using their DAMN LEAF BLOWER AGAIN, a few birds, and a few cars driving past down the hill towards the lake. I don’t make a lot of phone calls or have a lot of chatty lunches out, although I can tap away with might online to all kinds of people. I don’t mind being quiet at all. Sometimes I will sing, but maybe only once a day because it seems to bother the dog. We have an unspoken/unbarked agreement – I limit my warbling, she doesn’t crap on the carpet. Fair.

It would be exhausting to have to talk all day – after awhile your own voice starts to sound weird and unreal. If I have a long talking day, I start picking apart my voice even while I am speaking, thinking about the cadence and the accent and inflection and word choice. I would rather write than talk – OBVIOUSLY – because at least in print you cannot hear my long Wisconsin oaaaaaa’s and aaayyyyyyy’s. Although you just did there. I like my long silent hours. It gives me space to think, and by god, I love to think. If there’s anything I will miss when I am dead, it’s thinking. Yup. Good stuff.

So this was 355 more words than I thought I had left. Big surprise, huh?