Inspiration is a tricky thing

The other night, I had a handful of topics I wanted to write about and I could feel the words bubling around inside just waiting to pour out in artistically crafted waves across the page (screen, whatever).

Now I've got time. The kids are in bed. The wife is out walking the dogs. But I don't feel I can do things the justice they deserve and I'm having a hard time thinking of what some of the topics were that I felt so inspired to write about. I was up off and on all night with one or both of the kids. When they weren't waking me up, my thoughts wouldn't stop running around in the gerbil wheel and they kept sleep at bay. My brain and my eyeballs feel fuzzy and like they've been rubbed upon by too course of a grit of sandpaper.