Creature of habit.

I usually come up with ideas for my journal while I'm on a bike ride. That's also how I overcome writer's block and the occasional (oh, so very occasional) cranky mood.

Today, alas, my bike ride was reserved for what I call "real work." That is, noodling over a bit of writing that, while creative in nature, is limited by the constraints of the industry it will serve. This morning, it was energy. I suppose it also indirectly served the freelance writing industry (Industry? Yes, we have huge factories that churn out gluppity-glup; also schloppity-schlop.*). That would be because I do get paid for these mental machinations that end up as printed words.

So I have nothing pithy to post in this space today. And I was on such a roll, too. Perhaps something pithy will shake loose when I hit the bike path tomorrow. It certainly can't be less engaging than this.

(If ever fate were waiting to be tempted, I believe I just lobbed a huge softball right at the heart of its batting order.)

* With apologies and gratitude to Dr. Seuss and his Lorax.