There are times when a writer sits in front of a computer, or some a typewriter, completely stymied with not a glimmer of an idea of what to write. The deadline is a few days away and you are stuck looking at a blank page. Some call it writers block. One would think ideas might come easily just looking at the world around us and the events of the day, but not always so. There are occasionally other types of problems we run into that plague our creative juices, like the article you had spent time and effort to research suddenly turning up in print in another local paper. The expression “oh nuts” comes to mind. There it is staring at you, and you have the spooky feeling that someone had been reading your mind. That is precisely what happened to me this month. So now what?

Let’s see, I can’t write about the weather … been there, done that. Maybe a heartfelt thank you to the county for inmates cleaning up the Hansville Road last week. It was a disgusting mess of garbage and papers of every sort. Those fellows always do a neat job. People traveling to the sanitation and recycle site everyday, who do not cover and tie their loads down, letting everything fly off to accumulate in the ditches and brush along the way are on my S list. In fact right near the top. How can they not see garbage flying off in their rear view, or not see it on the return trip? Wow, that felt good.

Hmmm. I could say thank you to the Kingston Post Office where they are always patient with me and help with my postals. One fine young clerk even caught an error in my mailing zip code, saving the mail from ending up in Burbank, California, instead of this state. A money order mind you. And while I’m at it, I could say thanks to Bank of America in Kingston for always listening to my complaints about bank policies. On my leaving they smile kindly, telling me ‘Have a nice day” when what they probably would like to say is, “go soak your head.” In truth, though, they have always been there to help me and they don’t of course make the policies.

I still refuse to call myself a “Hansville Area” resident, and stubbornly insist that we live in the community of Eglon. If I had wanted to be a Hansvillan I would have bought in that community 50 years ago. (The sign still sits in my craw.) And whatever you do, don’t ask me what I think of the Kitsap County Community Development department or you‘ll get an hour recitation why it burns me up. And believe me I am not the only one. Holy cow, that one felt even better.

Now I’m in a better mood, and on to a lighter subject. I love humorist Irma Bombeck’s words of wisdom. “Never accept a drink from a urologist.” Or Bob Edwards, “Never judge a man by the opinion his wife has of him.” And Quentin Crisp said, “Never keep up with the Joneses. Drag them down to your level, it’s cheaper.”

I say, “Never walk into a public restroom until you read the sign on the door. It could be embarrassing for both parties.” I once walked into one and opened the cubicle door to see a gentleman sitting on the throne reading a sports page. He looked up, and then glanced back at his reading material as though nothing unusual had happened without saying a word. I let a screeched, “I’m sorry,” and ran out of the restroom. Of course it was the men’s room. But even worse, when he came out I found that his table was right across from ours. I wanted to crawl under ours, but the thought of it was so funny, I nearly strangled trying not to giggle. I can’t help but wonder what he was thinking while seeing me as an almost dinner partner. Life sure is interesting at times.