We’re having guests over Sunday to watch the Academy Awards. We haven’t had anyone over in months — October, to be exact — so the fact two friends are coming here to eat dessert and watch pretty people win gold trophies means one thing. Not champagne. Not gluten-free treats for that one particular guest. Not even dry cleaning my outfit. I’m talking housecleaning of mammoth proportions — proportions as large as the spiderweb I saw.
You know the kind — the very fine, white and wispy webs you never see a spider in, never even notice, until you do. Then they mock you for how seldom you look up, how rarely you wave a broom around over your head, how sporadic a housekeeper you are because you and your husband tolerate mess at the same spectacular level of disregard (thank god!).
It makes me think of this blog. I came online the other day to check the address, to make sure it was working before I included it in a scholarship application, and I was shocked — shocked! — to see I hadn’t written here in a year. It’s like THE BIGGEST spiderweb ever.
The good news is, I wrote the whole year. I worked on my novels. I wrote my magazine articles. I penned a few poems. I just didn’t write this blog. Partly, I admit, because, like not having over guests, I sometimes don’t see the point since so few people visit.
But I’m supposed to blog, the same way I’m supposed to keep a clean house. So perhaps in order to spur myself on, in order to keep up with this the way I should keep up with the evidence of arachnids in the corners, I should find a way to invite more people to visit.