This is What Happens When "In Jill's Words" Gets Writer's Block

I think I've had a case of writer's block this past week. Apparently, the more frequently one writes, the more likely one is to be afflicted by this condition.

Writing is not my day job. It's not even my night job. It's more like a weekend job and only when I'm not stressing out about all of the other tasks I have to complete before re-entering the trenches on Monday.

Last Monday, when I re-entered the trenches, I found myself with a miserable head cold, a gift given to me by my student teacher whose last day had been the previous Friday. There I was, sick and teaching ten classes per day with no assistant for the first time in eight weeks, simultaneously prepping my Veterans Day and Winter Programs, dealing with students throwing up in class (I've already had three sickies this year), collecting money for recorders, facilitating a patriotic mural painting during my lunch hours, etc., etc., etc. Oh, and by the way, I was loving every minute of it because I was finally teaching (as opposed to "mentoring" from the sidelines) again.

But I was left with little time to be witty.

Last night, I was so desperate that I even asked my very serious, very un-funny husband for help. (I personally think he's pretty humorous, but he claims otherwise.)

"What should I write about this weekend? I need a funny topic."

"Write about something that's not me," was Dan's response.

We were both staring into our respective bathroom mirrors, our mouths full of toothpaste.

"But you're so funny."

"No I'm not. I'm very serious."

"Then very seriously, Dan, what funny thing should I write about this week?"

Dan spit.

"Sweaters." He glanced at my cardigan hanging on the bathroom door. "The Broncos." He pointed at the BSU shirt I was wearing. "Hair brush. Kleenex."

He started laughing uncontrollably.

"Are you just naming random items around this bathroom?"

"Pretty funny, huh?"

I groaned and rolled my eyes, leaving him alone as he called out after me, "Toothpaste!"

Even though Dan's goal was to get me to write about something other than him, his weird demonstration last night had the opposite effect.

This is as witty as head-cold-ridden "In Jill's Words" gets. I apologize in advance for the weak topic.

Or, in the words of my husband, who said to me a few minutes ago, "You're writing about writer's block? That's so meta." (If he wishes to remain so anonymous, why does he have to be so funny?)

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