I got sleepy and forgot. Clearly I wasn't serious.
For me, that reveals a bigger issue than this blog.
I spend every waking moment considering things I should be writing about and the wonderful ways I could assemble the words to paint the pictures of the scenery of my life and I think about all the time I've wasted not doing that.
I call myself a writer. Not "aspiring", but a writer.
At my core, my essence, that's who I am. I can't escape it. If I could, it would have left me on grounds of spousal neglect by now.
But if I do not write, blogs or stories or essays or poems, I am not a writer, I am a dreamer.
Dreamers who do not act will never get paid.