Could I have finally found a reason to write?

I've had this blog for some time now, and finally I'm writing for the first time. If I'm being honest, the only reason I originally registered was to have access to other people's blogs. I never really had any intention to write, or maintain my own. And now, here I am.

It's ironic, actually. I just had a conversation this last Wednesday with a friend of mine about blogs. She's completely obsessed with them, and uses her own blog as a way to talk about her trials and tribulations. I told her that I don't have anything to write about. My life isn't exciting enough. I'm not a tortured soul. I'm not a confused woman searching for myself. I'm just me. I have a really great life: a husband who loves me, a beautiful home of our own, a wonderful puppy that I adore, a pretty good job, a family that loves and supports me, friends that would do anything for me... I could probably go on for awhile, and for that I am so grateful.

So really. What the hell do I have to write about?

Well, I'm here, aren't I?