Me, me, me, blah, blah, blah

I am such a creature of habit. I alternate between hating this fact about myself or letting myself off the hook for it. Routine provides a sense of comfort for me, finding the same things in the same places, and doing the same things in the same way, on the same day. This weekend has been a challenge for me. You see, my little secret addiction, Literati, the Yahoo version of scrabble, has been down (DOWN! I AM NOT ADDICTED BUT I JUST DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITHOUT MY PLANNED GAMES SPRINKLED THROUGHOUT THE DAY, OKAY MAYBE IT'S LIKE FOUR-FIVE (max I swear) HOURS A DAY ON THE WEEKEND, I KEEP TELLING MYSELF, "JUST DEAL" BUT IT'S NOOOOOOT WORKING) since Thursday. I can't play much during the week, but winter weekends are perfectly suited to this activity. Instead this weekend, I planned a trip to New York and got the bulk of our income tax information entered into the software program. In my angst over Literati withdrawl, I started playing Tangleword again, the internet form of Boggle. And I felt energized and happy. Happy that I didn't have to feel destitute about my loss of the addictive hobby, happy that I could exercise my brain. ( there are far more deleterious activities of which I could partake in ) I quickly tired of it though and so I sat down at the piano and a song just came. Poof. Like it was just wafting around the apartment and I finally sat down to hammer it out. I feel like a fraud. I didn't really write the song, I just played a cord, a melody popped into my head and I worked it out. The creative process is a fickle affair, like bobbing for apples, and I'm just glad I was able to be a participant.