There I was, ready to write the most insightful, witty, culturally relevant blogpost ever. It was going to be fire. Viral. A masterpiece.

And then… 
Poof.
Gone. 
All my thoughts flew off with the birdies outside my window. Literally. One minute I was brewing a metaphor, the next, I was tracking a blue jay like it owed me money. Or like I was the kid on the bike on Better off Dead. If you don’t get the reference, YouTube it.

It’s Monday. Of course it is.

I had ideas! They were there! I swear one was about resilience, another about socks with too much elastic and what that says about the human condition. But now? Nothing. Just coffee that’s too cold, emails I’m ignoring on principle, and a brain that feels like dial-up internet in 2025.

Maybe this is the blogpost. The blankness. The wandering mind. The admission that even psychologists, with degrees and deadlines, sometimes wake up and go: 
*”What was I doing again? Was it important? Does it require pants?”

The truth is, inspiration has a sense of humor. Sometimes it shows up at 3 a.m. when you’re half-asleep and covered in chip crumbs. Other times, it ghosted you like a bad date. And on Mondays? It’s probably hiding under the couch with that sock you’ve been missing.

But here’s the thing: it always comes back. Maybe not today. Maybe not in the form you expected. Maybe it’s just a line, or a moment, or a blue jay smirking at you through the glass while holding your best thought hostage.

Until then, I’ll keep showing up. Slightly disheveled, very caffeinated, and suspicious of all birds.