I don't know what to write about.
Most columnists are like the equivalent of Mexican food. They write basically the same thing each time, but they just package it differently. I'm not a columnist, but it feels like I'm starting to do the same two or three topics over and over again. Whether it's riffing on the economy, or the sad state of radio, you can only change up the phraseology so many times.
What's left? Just random thoughts and expressions about my day, my weekend, my life. I'm thankful that my life is so routine that I don't have any drama to write about. I go to work in 90 minutes, a bit of a departure from my regular shift, such as that is. Right now, Maverick (my dog) is sitting at my feet, staring at me like I've forgotten something. That, or he's wondering what I'm doing home at this time. He's very routine oriented, just like his master. He's still staring. There has to be something that I've forgotten, and it must be food related for him to be staring this long.
He just sighed. He must really think I'm some kind of idiot.
Even though I'll be anchoring the news for eight hours today, I don't want to watch any news prior to going in to work today. The big stories will no doubt be the weather, the auto bailout, and features about families whose Christmas dinner will be them splitting a can of beans over a hotplate. I don't want to know what's going on right now. I'm content watching Animal Planet. Maybe there's a good gossip show on E! Any break from reality is a welcome one.
One week from now at this time, I'll be sitting at a McCarran Airport gate, eating a Cinnabon, waiting to fly to Milwaukee. Today's temperature in Milwaukee? 6 degrees. Yet, it's a cold reality that I can't wait to face.
Maverick is still staring.