The Seven Year Itch

I have been on the road almost constantly the past two weeks. I am racking up the hotel points and frequent flyer miles at a pace similar to what I did a decade ago.

Tuesday evening I was ensconced in my room at a Hampton Inn near Chicago. The window heater battled the minus12 wind chills outside to keep the room reasonably warm. I perched on an ugly couch in my room and searched through my archives to find the picture for the post below.  The wind rattled the windows and I could hear the faint hum of traffic on the interstate. I scrolled through day after day and week after week of my old writings.  It was weird; like seeing a reflection of yourself in a fun house mirror, the distortion of time skewing the image. Not only did my ass look fat, but things were far more interesting around here. The content was better written and far more entertaining.

It is not that I put more effort into the old blog back in 2005 or 2006, I think the problem is I have already told all of my good stories.  You traveled with me as I was the ugly American in Paris, you relived my boyhood tales. Now, you just get rambling rants on political matters and occasion glimpses of my boring life.

We are deep into this journey through the blog world.  I have been at it for seven years. In fact, it will be eight years in March. I feel you getting bored. You are not paying the same attention to me like you used to. You are cheating on me with other blogs aren't you? Oh, damn, my Mom said you were no good for me. I give you seven years and THIS IS HOW YOU TREAT ME?

Who is it?  I don't want to know. Don't look at me, I'm ugly. Perhaps if I bought some sexy undies, would that help? You know, a little lace, some knee high leather boots, a garter belt? I will watch porn with you, if that is what it takes. Do we need to go to strip clubs? I am willing to smoke a cigar.

We need counseling.

One of us might need it anyway...