February 19, 2013
Working from home is not
for the faint of heart. Distractions plague the weak. Resisting the urge to
plop in the cool and rarely private pool out back eludes me, sweet delectable goodies
shout out from the freshly loaded pantry, kids interfere with their invariable boredom,
incessant churn of the cement mixer and naked from the waist up laborers chatter
out back, cell phones ringing and hungry vendors canter by bellowing their
advertisements. Closing the outer door hardly prevents the outside energy from creeping
in like flu germs lurking. To remain intellectually engaged while the waft of
fresh coffee pierces the scorcher day is an idler’s dream, the mind wanders to
future plans and shopping for the impossible lingers…oh, right, back to writing
stories!
Wide forehead and
bulging eyes lead the protruding belly around the corner of the house, blue
shorts, blackish socks and gray plastered flip flops follow. “The dog escaped
the front gate again” claims the toothless grin. No one else has the ability to
encourage Pipo back into the yard save muah. He gallops around the streets,
collecting as many fleas as possible from the mouths and noses ground to the
dirt under the fences, yammering their distress as the one-who-is-free appears
thru the slats. The one who walks, feeds, tosses his body around in play and
listens and watches his expressions for more water or food commands is one who
can coax him home. Another disruption.
As the mouse that got a
cookie or the moose that was rewarded a muffin got distracted so do I. On the
way to the dog rescue I notice the laundry has stopped spinning in the washer
and is begging to be hung on the line in the fast disappearing hot afternoon sun.
Crusted lunch dishes invite flies in the filled sink. The pantry light is annoyingly
left on. Sand swirls around on the verandah insisting on being swept into a
neat pile. Has anyone peeked into the mailbox on the street as of late? Ho hum,
nada para mim!
Salve Jorge novella
starts soon so I may as well shut down and drown out the guilt of not committing
to more than one page of additional acceptable text by gobbling a few squares
of milk chocolate (preferred dark stash is long gone) and goblet of chilled
blended juice from the maracuja fruit
off the tree in back. The combination of sweet and tangy is staggering and
wakes up my taste buds. Perhaps I do still have some energy to generate more
paragraphs or…a dip in the shaded pool..
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