Can you hear me now?

Hello from the late night laundry room. It's Wednesday night and nobody is listening-- and that is exactly what I like about this little process.
Does blogging fulfill some inane desire to talk to one's self?
Just think about it. Nobody cares. Nobody listens. You can write or say whatever you damn well please because nobody knows who you are.
I'll bet all the therapists out there with their uncomfortable couches and yellow legal pads are popping pills they're so worried about blogging taking over their businesses.
It's the therapy of the future. Don't see a shrink. Just turn on your computer and let it all out.
I can see it now. Pretty soon, they'll have computer programs that actually read your blogs for you and send you nice little comments, or if you're into abuse, hate mail.
Maybe you could program your blogger program to give you Heloise household hints for all your dilemmas.
We could have secret bloggers for paranoid people who need computer therapy because HMO's no longer cover "real" therapy since this new age therapy is the generic equivalent to someone sitting in a chair and shaking his head.
The secret bloggers would have special protection so no one could ever read their blog-- though by this time, I'm sure no one really cares what Beninhim in Misery is doing to get "him" out of his mind once and for all.
We can all keep dirty little secrets, right?
Here's one-- I can't stand long toe nails.
Two out of three of my daughters actually chew their toe nails-- which makes me wonder if they are trying to make me crazy or if they just like the taste of dirty, sweaty slivers of hard nail material.
Maybe it reminds them of toasted coconut?
I don't know. I'll have to ask.
But you know they actually fight over who gets which toe nail-- until I, struggling to keep my tuna sandwich safe in my tummy, knock it out of their hands and lecture them on hygiene.
Kids. They'll make your hair gray and your skin crawl.
Well, Doc Presario my 15- minute session is coming to a close. I'll diagnose you with a slow harddrive and too much virtual memory.
It's time to go out and make some real ones-- too bad for you you're just a bunch of wires filled with everyone else's thoughts and none of your own.
I hope I can boot up tomorrow.
This computer can be so temperamental.
I just don't get it.