Maid…what a misnomer. She is really the Woman in Charge. The lady that actually cares about the dust and cobwebs in this monster of a house, with the power to send me cowering in my office, behind my precious stacks, while she takes aggressive command of the rest of it. I have to scurry about gathering all the books and papers I've left all over the place before she comes, or risk never seeing them again. So the office grows worse and worse… (grammar police, please check that word usage?) I've banned her from that room you see. For me and the papers, it is safe haven. But of course I end up losing everything in the attempt. Eh.
Even now I am not in my office. She will be here in half an hour or so, but I can have these moments to sit with my coffee in the short silk robe the color or the sky, greeting the words while my girl cat, who spent the night outside, cuddles against the laptop's warmth. The coffee is Costa Rican today, fresh ground. I sent the last of the coffee I brought from Hawaii to a friend yesterday. That's okay though. He did introduce me to Costa Rican coffee after all. ahhh.
I'm practicing a writing strategy this week, that of just typing in the journal to get the words flowing. I'm dreadfully behind on my personal deadlines, and worse, I've let myself get out of the habit of writing. I'm immersing myself writing books, determined to actually read one of them. This weeks choices include Ann Lamont, Bird by Bird, William Zinsser, On Writing Well and The Gotham Writers book on Fiction. I decided it was time to get back to the basics. Or maybe I'm hoping that if I bore my self with the how to books I will write just to win the right to read fiction again. Yes yes. I do play games in my head, don't I?
Enough about that. I may have to break a rule and write about my trip. But only if I can find an angle that makes you feel… something. For now, I have to get dressed because the enemy is approaching and I have to save the lives of some dust bunnies.
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