December 16, 2007
Procrastinating work-at-home writers, pet-owners division
I recall an awesome Dave Barry column where he betrayed the secrets of the writer at work facing deadline, namely that it would suddenly become imperative to remove his socks and shoes, grab a guitar pick and clean out all his toe cheese.This is uncomfortably close to reality. I tend to find a sudden urgency to clean the spaces between the keys on my keyboard with a rectangle of cardboard, have a little interdental pick session while awaiting inspiration or caulk all the floor joists in the Sportsplex (our basement).
Barry seems so much more honest than Stephen King's wild claims of working from 8 a.m. to noon every day of every year.
For pet owners, the procrastination options multiply nicely. A blogger named littera abactor has captured how those bizarre noises from the kitchen require immediate investigation by the home office dog or cat owner, in this entry:
An excerpt:
Dog: I am starving.
Me: Actually, no. You aren't starving. You get two very good meals a day. And treats. And Best Beloved fed you extra food while I was gone.
Dog: STARVING.
Me: I saw you get fed not four hours ago! You are not starving.
Dog: Pity me, a sad and tragic creature, for I can barely walk, I am so starving. WOE.
Me: I am now ignoring you.
Dog: STARVING.
Dog: Did you hear me? I am starving.
Dog: Are you seriously ignoring me? Fine.
[There is a pause, during which the dog exits the room in a pointed manner.]
Keep reading to see what the dog does next ...
Yes, I've lived this with Pierre and his soft, almost below a whisper exhalations that convey starvation mixed with martyrdom.
I really do have a deadline so gotta go. Maybe to do some work, maybe to trim the cats' nails.
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