Beaned myself on a low hanging branch while mowing the lawn today. I mean thigh-thick branch to the skull, head over heals Three-Stooges style crashing to the ground. I was going to joke that I was thinking of ways to publicize that writing contest when I should have been concentrating on the job at hand, but when the stars and little birdies cleared I remembered I'd been thinking at the time about my little nephew, who's having an operation on his heart in the morning. Made me feel guilty that I whined over a little gash and goose egg, although that doesn't mean I won't turn it into a column.
Oh, before my short term memory loss kicks in again, there is still the writing contest to vote on: