It isn't that I don't feel like writing, its that I'm writing a funny book about grief in which hundreds of people pass through but three leave empty chairs.
So I confess (publicly before Zoe can tell you) I've spent more time at Target and more time watching MTV than I've spent writing this week, and the new Jersey Shore hasn't even started yet.
I tell you this (finally? or did you already know?) so you can understand I give myself a few minutes to shift my attention and heart into a writing place because I'm writing about people who've jumped into the sky.
So I go through my usual sites - CNN.com, Perezhilton.com then email, then Postsecret, then Facebook.
On the Facebook home page every day it suggests new friends to connect with based on mutual friends, then also suggests it suggests a name of a friend who hasn't been too active on Facebook.
Today, it suggests I get in touch with Carol Strickland, "say hello, Write on her Wall."
Really, it was her, like she's still around on earth able to check Facebook on the iPhone that dangled from her belt every day while she sat in my classes translating lecture into sign language.
I miss her so much still, the grief is so raw, that just seeing her pop up so nonchalantly brings tears to my eyes.
I stare at her in the last profile picture she chose for herself, wielding some awesomely deadly weapon, inspired by her no-excuses blackbelt life and her marathon -runner momentum.
I bet they do use Facebook in the sky, I think, logging off the internet and getting back to my Manuscript, warmed with gratitude and laughing.