From the Speakers: TIMES LIKE THESE by Foo Fighters
Thank goodness for writing on days like today. . .
Water piped leaked. Guys came yesterday, said it was good to go. Squishy carpet between my toes. Someone else's vegetable soup rising up out of my sink. Gigantic fan blowing all night to dry the carpet. This morning, wet carpet.
Guys came back, one broke my bookshelf. Pages falling onto carpet dampened by I don't know what, but it's brownish. Said we were good to go. Sorry about the vegetable soup--someone's clogged garbage disposal upstairs. Now, two gigantic fans, and a warning that they must continue to blow all night. Squishier carpet between my toes. Standing water in the dishwasher. All around, the hanging scent of mildew moving in. Making itself comfortable.
Repaired the bookshelf, a bit more organized. Took six times as long as it should have. Wearing shoes now to avoid squishy carpet. Almost slipped because of wet shoes on kitchen tile. Carpet ripped up for fans to blow beneath. Can't close the door because of tented carpet. Keep tripping over tented carpet.
Cherry on top: poison ivy on my leg.
Time to get the hell out of reality for a bit and write a story.
Holy crap, that's awful. I can't imagine how frustrated you've got to be. Definitely dive into your story; writing is one of the best defenses against reality's bite!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Milo. I managed to make some hefty headway into what's turning out to be an exciting novelette. It even helped me ignore the maddening itch on my leg. Now if only I could figure out a place to submit it . . . .
ReplyDelete