My blog entries in the last few weeks have been really boring. They’ve just seemed rambly, like I’m just pontificating to hear myself talk. I don’t know; maybe after the wave of depression recessed, I’m just having a subconscious mental break or trying to clear everything out of my mind before I start working on writings or thoughts that are worthwhile. (”The Etch-A-Sketch End of the World” as Eddie Izzard put it.)

I had a lot of things I thought I wanted to say today, that I was thinking, that I thought about expounding on. Like everything else I’ve written recently, none of it was moving or even consequential.

I sprawled across the living room floor for hours playing with Chloe, who is running around and babbling incessantly these days. After we laughed and chased each other for the entire afternoon, she walked over to where I was sitting, stepped up on my legs, wrapped her little arms around my neck, leaned her head on my shoulder and sighed. We sat like that for about an hour and, until her Daddy excitedly threw open the garage door and disturbed our reverie, I was still, smiling, and unable to think of any words perfect enough to describe today.

I didn’t waste too much time trying to think of any.