The week started out like any other week. The flowers were shriveled. I watered them. The mutant tomatoes, straining from their containers, screamed we’re dry, you loser. I soaked them. The patio was dusty and leafy. I hosed it. And so…it rained.
I ignored the clouds repeating my tasks and marched inside, down the hall past the closed door of the bathroom on its fourth week of renovation (don’t ask), to the room where my computer awaited my commands. This was something I had total control over. I was going to write something profound, pithy, and publishable, and while I was at it, leave a witty word or two on my blog.
But first, I checked my e-mail, thought about a revision I needed to finish, read LJ, started on a crit, thought about a revision I needed to finish, skimmed over unread posts at V’s, thought about a revision I needed to finish, made a dental appointment, and scolded the resident fur people about their latest lack of potty smarts and incessant shedding. My writing window remained open and blank.
The week is now kaplooey. Okay, perhaps profundity may have been too big of a reach for me, unlike the tomatoes that are threatening to climb over the fence line and escape by nightfall. I figure my best bet is to go for the witty word or two.
So, here they are…frickle and slorpatchit.
My slacking is no more. In fact, I laugh in the face of slacking. I have a revision I need to finish, it's about to rain, and I have tomatoes to lasso.