I have a confession to make, which will prove how dumb I am. I didn’t know until today that you WRITE on your blog. Months ago, I clicked on your gravatar and didn’t see any content. There might not have been when I did. Yesterday, I saw another tab on my WordPress toolbar for followers. I didn’t know I could see the followers, either. Duh. And I didn’t realize that you had a “follow” button when I saw your name on the list.
I clicked it. A little bit ago, I opened my Outlook folder containing all my blog notifications. To my horror, I saw that some of them included notifications that you’d added new content.
To say that I felt stupid is an understatement.
You’ve been a constant reader of my lunacy. The volume and length of what I write wear most casual readers out. I joke that if they’re reading my posts, they can honestly say, “Yes, I do a lot of reading,” without feeling as if they are lying. If hand-writing were still a thing, I’d have to buy ink by the gallon. I’d write ink instead of pencil because I loathe perfectionism. (And often even second drafts, much to my cousin’s horror. 🙂 )
And given my propensity to tell people to write (and share) their stories, I’m a dumbass for not seeing you’d posted some.
Regardless of how it happened, somehow, I know my stupidity lies at the bottom of that well of explanation.
I know you’ll write something clever to deflect the apology – and that’s okay. Secretly, though? Yeah, we know I’m a dumbass.