Well, after two days of luxuriating in glorious drill-free silence, with the blinds open without fear of coming face-to-face with a man far outside where nature intended, the workers are back. Ish, it appears. The drilling is coming in splatters and sputters.
Manageable, though. Definitely manageable.
Which it needs to be today. I haven’t even started my scene for class yet. And worse, last week’s homework inspired the nugget of a new project, and I haven’t had a chance yet to start it. And let us all say together: aaarrgghh.
That’s the way of writing, isn’t it? Distractions, tiny little nuisance distractions find water somewhere and they grow to 10,000 times their original size. The ideas you have are never for the project you need to work on, they’re always for something newer, shinier, blanker, un-used-up.
Sometimes I wish writing was like a spigot, righty-tighty, lefty loosey. Just open that faucet and the work comes pouring out as your fingers move methodically, melodically across the keyboard. And as I wrote that sentence I realized my fingernails had become an uncomfortable typing length and I had to go cut them. I hope you’ll forgive the interruption.
Anybody remember something I said about distractions? It seems like it might be relevant here somehow. If only I could make that connection.
So off to the back-burner, new idea. I’ve got homework to do. And I’m going to do it. I swear. Only I have a couple of things to do first.
Procrastination? What? Why on earth would you say that, hypothetical reader? I can’t see what procrastination has to do with anything. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go rotate my refrigerator shelves. Kitchen maintenance never ends.
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A Bit to Read 
If you want your writing to have quality on tap, you can’t faucet. I’ll get me coat.
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I’ve been trying to get this read for the last couple of days but every time I sit down something else pops up. It’s like synchronicity!!! Were you in my head? So it looks like you’ll be stuck with me for awhile. Where is that nail gun?
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Well, if someone’s in your head, it’s more likely Aunty Ida than me ;). She has a tendency to forget she’s fictional and start messing around with random brains.
I both really want a nail gun and probably shouldn’t have one. It could end with inconvenient nails.
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🙂
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