You know that overwhelming feeling of panic that you have when you’re turning a doorknob and nothing happens?
You’re turning, you’re pulling (and YES, it IS a turn and pull door). Nothing.
And then your claustrophobia starts setting in. And then – in the span of about five seconds – you’re contemplating all the ways you could POTENTIALLY break this door to get it to open. And, “Hey, C. How ironic is it that you wrote a scene in one of your books, making a joke about a door being broken? BET IT’S REALLY FUNNY NOW, iddn’t it?”
Anyway, the door opened.
And apparently I’m talking to myself via blog.
I should probably sleep, but I can’t yet.
Wow. This isn’t as bad as jumping and nearly screaming when you catch your reflection in a pancake syrup bottle.
Hello World. This is me.