I didn’t really want to write a blog post today but then I was informed by myself that I was contractually obligated. Apparently sometime during the summer I made myself sign a contract I had written that forces me to write on certain days. I can be such a jerk sometimes.
I’m trying to figure out how I knew how to write a contract in the first place. I know me, and a law degree is something I don’t have. I have half a jar of peanut butter, a glass Snoopy bank filled with pennies, a lifetime supply of sarcasm and assorted notebooks filled with ideas, observations and knock-knock jokes but I don’t have a law degree.
Wanting to breach the agreement, I simply refused to write, but I was too smart for myself. I had had a clause put into the contract that if I refused to write a blog on this date that tomorrow I would be forced to write a sonnet about kittens sleeping on rainbows while John Denver songs play in the background. I didn’t know I could be so cruel.
It only got worse as I read further. If I don’t sit down and write a poem on Wednesday, I’ll force myself to watch Katy Perry videos on You Tube. By Thursday if I don’t have a short story started I will have to watch a marathon of Joey Lawrence’s sitcom on the Family Channel. Where did I come up with these heinous punishments? Why would I subject myself to these vile tortures if I don’t comply with my contract with myself?
I wanted to hire a lawyer to fight the contract, but I told myself I couldn’t afford one. I may have been lying, I don’t know if I can trust myself anymore. Feeling I had no choice I’ve taken a drastic measure. I’ve hired a hit man to kill me and make it look like an accident. I know it sounds crazy but I will not let me control myself with flimsy legal papers.
I have to go make my dinner now. Funny . . . I don’t remember that ottoman being right in front of the refrigerator where I could easily fall over it and hit my head on the kitchen counter.