Born to Do It

I like writing. I like writing journal entries. I'm not sure why I do it so infrequently. Usually, after I do write and post an entry, I feel a sense of satisfaction that lasts for minutes. I wish that more journal worthy things would happen to me each day, to inspire me to write journal entries more often.

Today I was driving home in peak hour traffic after taking the Jeep to the car-dentist and I was in a good mood. The sun was nice and warm. Fresh FM were playing some nostalgic tunes and even though traffic was crawling I didn't have far to go, so I enjoyed the enforced downtime and cruised at walking speed with the window down.

I was wondering at the time if describing this would be a satisfying journal entry. Probably not, I concluded. Then, right when the song on the radio sang Craig David all over your *boink* a bee flew in through the open window right at my face the moment the *boink* noise played. Some guy on the sidewalk looked at me. The bee hovered in front of my eyes for a moment and then was sucked out the window again by the wind. I barely had time to feel any fear. And that's what I wrote about on my 5240th day of sporadically journalling the unimportant parts of my life.