If I keep banging my head on my keyboard, I’m going to need a new one.  I could blame my muse but it really isn’t her fault. 

     “Damned right it isn’t my fault.” 

     “No comments from the peanut gallery.  May I continue?”

     “Be my guest.”

     The fault is mine.  I can’t seem to concentrate.  Maybe it’s from being stuck in the house so long.  Could it possibly be the lack of sunshine and fresh air?  My muse has tried to keep me on track.

     “Yes, I have.  You aren’t cooperating though.”

     “If you keep interrupting I won’t get this post finished.”

     “Shutting up now.”

     “Good.”

     As I said, my muse has tried to keep me on track.

     “Quit repeating yourself.  That nasty little editor will show up if you don’t stop.”

     “Would you rather write this?”

     “It’s against the rules.”

     “What rules?  Oh, never mind.”

     I’ve lost my concentration.  If I hunt for it, will I find it?  Is there a lost and found warehouse for these things?  Is there a grouchy old man behind a counter guarding all the lost concentration?  Will I need to fill out a special form to get it back?  To be continued…