Mea Culpa?


I apologize for yesterday’s post. In a fit of weirdness I wrote three hundred words about a clock that doesn’t work.

But what’s weird is that that’s not the weird part.

What’s weird is what spawned it. Like most everything it was symptomatic of something else completely unrelated.

Last weekend a couple of our nephews and his girlfriend and friend stayed with us and helped me paint Casa Oceandoggy. We got a bunch done and turned the corner so at least from the street it looks all nice and new and freshy. Bling baby.

But that wasn’t the weirdness that made me write about  a broken clock. The weirdness started with the delivery of something I’m going to roll out soon with them there and then with other friends stopping by and Miss Carol showing off the something which became something else entirely and before I knew it I had close friends and family reading my blog.

I was outed.

And it totally weirded me out.

It’s one thing writing anonymously, broadcasting to strangers and quite another watching your nephew’s girlfriend reading your shit on her laptop. Kinda like the difference  between throwing up in the alone darkness of the beach and vomiting on your buddy’s shirt while he’s wearing it.

Hence the clock story- a reaction enfeebled.

It took me a couple days to come to grips with this whole bold new frontier. To realize from here on out it’s only gonna get worse in that I’m gonna have more and more people I actually know knowing about

It’s weird.



One response to “Mea Culpa?

  1. Oh. My. God. (I realize I just started two different comments exactly the same way, but I can’t help it. It’s necessary.)

    I was just in the middle of writing about this exact same thing. Well, I outed myself to two friends and now I, too, am totally weirded out!

    And there I was going on about how I regretted saying anything and blah blah blah when suddenly I was getting all sentimental and blubbering on myself about how much I love blogging and I thought, shit, I need to close this post and step away for a moment.

    So, in other words, I feel ya. But I’d still like to see a picture of the clock.

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