Facebook Failure
Facebook called me lazy, “You have not posted anything in nine days.”
Nine days? I may not have posted on my FB page, still
I have commented on the Facebook pages of others.
I gave my daughter-inlove “thumbs up” when she posted a picture of her newly minted certificate to be a Certified Lactation Consultant. When she took the classes one week, my husband and I went to
St. Louis to supervise the children. To keep busy during the school hours, my Energizer Bunny of a husband accepted their suggested list of house repairs. My list only dealt with preparing gluten free, dairy free and sugar free food for the week. Mostly I spent my days watching YouTube, reading, shopping and taking naps.
I commented, “Glad to have been able to help you in some small way. Nice vacation for me.”
When the oldest granddaughter, mother of three, lost eight pounds, I hurrahed her and typed, “Good job. Hard work pays off.” Not too wordy, but I have not been feeling very wordy lately - obviously, or Facebook would not have nagged me for not posting in nine days.
I asked my son for pictures of the pavers he recently laid in his driveway. He posted the picture. I commented, “Good job. Should be less muddy during the winter and rainy days.”
Facebook can not count. A week before it scolded me, I welcomed my 78 year-old husband back from serving four nights as the oldest counselor at our church’s Junior Camp. He came home exhausted, but like the Energizer Bunny he is, he kept going while I lay on the couch totally wiped out from a few days by myself. Days in which I stayed home, slept, read, did a bit of stitching and took naps.
No one wants to read a post, “I took three naps today.”
I might have added comments on the week’s hot news topic. So many others covered it from every angle possible that reading their posts drained me. I took another nap.
I could have discussed my weird diet of the month, “eat a small spoonful of sauerkraut before each meal. The kraut helps settle the digestive system.”
It seems to work, but I can’t endorse it. Two weeks into the diet, I woke up, dipped into the quart jar of kraut for a dose and stopped. My lips curled. My body violently shuddered at the idea of even one more bite.
Gulping air, I put down the jar and grabbed a yogurt instead.
Hastily, I shoved that jar into the back of the refrigerator. In a year or two I may use it to top a hot dog. For now, my stomach can’t handle hot dogs let alone sauerkraut.
I doubt anyone wants to read Facebook updates on my sauerkraut diet.
I do know that friends like pictures. My friend, who knew my daughter in grade school, saw a picture of her four children and wrote, “Man! I feel old. Are we old? Our kids are older … wake me from this crazy dream.”
I could only sigh and type, “We are older.”
So, I’m sorry Facebook that I failed to meet expectations. I promise as soon as we iron out my digestive difficulties and my energy level moves little closer to the Energizer Bunny’s, I will hop right back on board and tell the world all about my life again, as I once did.
Meanwhile, quit nagging me. I’m still recovering from all the reasons for following the sauerkraut diet. Believe me, no one, but no one wants to know those details.