I sit at my Mac on an enormous grey exercise ball scanning all of my open windows. There’s twhirl in the upper corner — not nearly as noisy as it has been, but there, its colorful avatars proudly displaying each person’s thoughts, comments, responses, and taunts to visit yet another link. And email is open, too, even though it shouldn’t be considering an audible reminder lets me know when I have a tweet, or more junk mail.
Blurb is open too, as I’m compiling a friend’s family recipes into a cookbook. But I’m here instead. I swore I heard crickets coming from the general vicinity and thought I might fill the space a bit with words that don’t add up to much more than my thoughts, which I suppose are something.
I’ve learned that in order to write more than what I’m taking up space with at this moment, I’ve got to read and be involved. To do something other than what I’ve been doing. I’ve also learned that I can’t wake up at 4am and expect to function at this point in the day.
None of this is unfortunate, however. In fact, it’s how I’ve always wondered life might be if I had the choice to do what I wanted and when from one day to the next. My house is even clean. My cupboards organized. The last bit of cat crap sprayed on the wall in her last explosion decontaminated. The nasty white carpet I’ve complained about for the past year and a half soon to be torn from the floor and replaced by indescribably beautiful wood.
And we’re going to Las Vegas this weekend.
Like how I slipped that one in there? You’re thinking we just went, right? Actually it was a year ago, I think.
This means I have to go shopping you know. Maybe a few tops to wear with my jeans. Pretend I know how I’m supposed to dress…
Like I could pretend even if I wanted to.
It’s more fun to watch the the twenty somethings doing their party thing — from afar, mind you. *remembering that twentysomething girl barfing in a trash can last time…*
But it will be relaxing as it always is, and there’s sure to be good food on our agenda. What? Like that’s a surprise.