I have no clue what to write my column about this week.

Nada.

Nil.

Nothing.

Usually an event happens, I break something or I have a thought about life and go from there. But this week, my mind’s like Jell-O – slippery, empty and nothing sticks.

Looking at the news, it’s bleak and depressing. A probable war in Ukraine, a Hitler wannabe taking over parts of Europe and forecasters warning that gas will cost $7 a gallon by the summer.

There’s global warming, computer-chip shortages, empty shelves in the grocery store and constant warnings about a new virus, ready to shut the world down again.

Who wants to read about those depressing subjects?

Not me.

Looking for an idea, I went through a file I keep of interesting news clippings. One was from 2000 about banning books. Parents were demanding the Harry Potter books, “The Catcher in the Rye,” “Lord of the Rings,” “The Handmaid’s Tale” and any books by Maya Angelou be taken off library shelves.

Today, parents are demanding these same books be banned and brave librarians are still leading the fight against banning books.

We haven’t changed much in 21 years have we?

Inflation is a hot topic, but nobody wants to read about rising prices. Besides, we’ve been down this road before. When I was in high school, gas was 19 cents a gallon. When I was in my 30’s, gas was $4 a gallon.

Global warming continues to make headlines. When I was a teenager, I also thought we only had 30 years left on this planet because Barbra Streisand said so on the back of her album.

Today, they’re saying that in 30 years, it’ll be 115 degrees in most places during the summer and to expect tundra-like winters. These doomsday prophets aren’t batting a thousand with me.

Being a mom is always a fun topic, but my boys are adults now. They’re no longer hoarding dirty dishes underneath their beds, running experiments on how long they can consecutively wear a pair of socks without washing them – two weeks is the record, by the way – or learning how to drive.

The grandchildren are perfect, just like everyone else’s grandchildren. My mom’s still rocking and rolling at 89 and retirement finds me looking for the best place to find a deal on day-old muffins.

I don’t go on cruises or exotic vacations, so I can’t try to entertain you with tales of a Caribbean voyage or the wonders of the Egyptian pyramids.

I’m not in an exercise class, so I can’t talk about the humiliation of standing in the back of the class in hopes of hiding just to have the instructor turn the tables and the people on the back row now become the people on the front row.

YouTube videos continue to entertain, especially cleaning ones. The one recommending using toilet-bowl cleaner to whiten the grout in my kitchen floor worked like a charm. Now I’m contemplating mixing vinegar and Dawn to clean the scum off the shower doors.

Just typing that last paragraph made me hang my head, admitting that removing bathroom scum is the highlight of my week.

So I’m back to wondering what to write about. How to make the words worthwhile so you, patient reader, will enjoy spending a few minutes reading this column.

Perhaps I don’t have to write about anything earth-shattering. Maybe you don’t want to read about the glamorous life someone else is living or the fabulous places they’ve traveled to.

Maybe you’d enjoy spending a few minutes with an ordinary, ho-hum retiree who believes even though there’s struggles all around, life is still pretty darned great.

It wasn’t any fun cleaning that kitchen floor, but I listened to my brother’s podcast and was quite entertained. I don’t go to live concerts, but I enjoyed listening to George Strait singing from a truck’s sound system while waiting for a train to pass.

So maybe having nothing to write about gives me the opportunity to realize that even nothing can be something special.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.