A poem

I sit at my computer and write. Even though it seems I have nothing to write about. I think about writing something good, and yet this is what I come up with.
Upstairs, in the kitchen, the blender goes on, it then goes off.
The Tv downstairs is on. Not turning off.
My bedroom door is open, the book that I am reading sitting on my bed.
And me, sitting at the computer, typing all of this up.
I sigh and put my hand against my cheek wondering what else there is.
I stop typing, becuase I'm done.