Friday, September 14, 2007

The Irrational.

Some days, I head into irrational territory. Like today. I’m at Borders after lunch, trying to write. And I LOVE that DH comes with me and reads while I write. Please know that I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE and appreciate that he keeps me company. He is my muse, if I have a muse. :-)

I also love the noise and movement of the cafe, and I feed off the strange energy books give me.

But then, some days, there’s the irrational. Like now, I’m sitting and praying that DH will please not take one more swig and start crunching on one more piece of ice. Oops, there he goes. One crunch,
two crunches,
again,
crunch,
crunch,
CRUNCH and how many crunches does it take
to chew through one tiny piece of ice?

One inch of ice in his cup. Can you please explain to me why it hasn’t melted? Why there seem to be endless numbers of ice cubes in that little space?

And pllleeeease don’t get a refill ...

There’s some weird connection between
his mouth and my ears,
like the chiming,
relentless
crunch
from his mouth
travels directly into my brain,
amplified,
knocking around my head,
a buzzing,
frantic,
frenzied,
furious,
stinging
fly.

And then there’s this strange squeaking by the table with the caps. I’m not understanding this squeaking, why it takes endless minutes of chalkboard-scratching with screeching fingernails to get one cap on one cup.

One cap.
One cup.

Hour-long MINUTES!

And did you know that sixty percent of coffee customers do not possess the ability to face a selection of lids and decide which one will fit on the cup they hold in their hand?

Blocks,
shapes,
kindergarten,
we must revolutionize the teaching in this country ...

Do you have a lid that fits this?
This lid doesn’t fit!
Excuse me, but I need a lid.
Which lid do I use?
There’s no lid for this cup.

And then squeak, squeak, squawwwwwk. Squawwwwwk, squeak, squaaaawwwwk, squeak, squaaaawwwwwwww--

Nasal voice
This lid doesn’t fit!

The lids twisting and turning and squeaking and squawking and the crunching in my head ...

It never stops!

The insane.
The irritating.
The irrational.

Some writing days do not go as planned.

5 bonus scribbles:

Susan Helene Gottfried 9/15/2007 07:57:00 AM  

The writing may not have gone as planned, but you sure got a great post out of it!

StarvingWriteNow 9/15/2007 08:11:00 AM  

You didn't go postal in Borders, did you? They frown on that sort of thing, you know... :)

I'm a quiet writer; can't stand alot of distraction. I'm even considering getting some of those noise-canceling headphones.

Erica Orloff 9/15/2007 10:26:00 AM  

I relate.

There is a law of quantum physics in my house. Sort of like the "equal and opposite reaction" law. If I FINALLY get my writing groove on? THAT is the precise moment four out of four kids will need me. Not one out of four. ALL of them. Too many for man-to-man defense, so then I have to go to zone.

It never fails. Some days just don't go as planned.

spyscribbler 9/15/2007 11:04:00 PM  

LOL, Susan. Putting my irritation to good use was the only thing that kept me rational, LOL.

I was good, Starving! Today I went to the fireplace Borders. Fun!

LOL, Erica. Somehow four kids seem like a better excuse for a writing day gone awry than my irrational annoyance with some silly sounds. :-)

But you're so right!

Kate S 9/18/2007 10:41:00 AM  

Oh god, Spy, I can relate to this! The other day I was trying to concentrate and I could swear my daughter was chewing ice directly into a microphone. I feel your pain.