I’ve only posted twice in April, well this is technically post number three.
I’m not sure why. I’ve been working on other things, busy with life, wasting time lusting after Idris Elba. I don’t know. Things have taken priority over the laundry room and honestly I haven’t had much to say.
Two posts in one month is not good. Statistically speaking, for my blog to be successful, I need to provide content. Consistent content. Two posts in twenty-one days is not consistent.
I was never good at statistics. In fact, I’m pretty sure I got a D in that class in college. Bias, intervals, variables…not my thing. Valuable and useful information, I’m told, but I have a hard time with charts. I don’t like the definitiveness of it, the science.
I’m more of an exceptions girl. I like the dark horse, the person or moment that defies the odds. I like when things are perfectly assumed, predicted, and then the underdog, the one without the shiny coat, pulls ahead. I suppose we all like that. Stories, movies, songs are written about the one least expected.
Statistics doesn’t really account for that, it assumes all things are plotted, mapped, should look a certain way.
That all feels so restrictive, like…sexy underwear. You know, the ones that are supposed to be sexy, but once they’re on it’s just odd and the very last thing you feel is sexy? Instead you’re sort of trussed turkey and awkward.
No? Can’t relate? Yeah, me neither. Moving on.
So, my blog may be suffering right now. It feels the same, but you never know. Statistically, readership should be down due to my lack of consistent content. Statistics makes the laundry room feel like actual laundry, a have to.
Still, I should be an adult, commit to structure, pay some attention to the numbers.
Consistent content. I’ll add it to my list of things to worry about, right below whether or not I instilled enough appreciation of foreign films in my children as they were growing up.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Eight Hours.
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