I had it all planned out, my evening, my writing. I had a topic in mind, I had time to myself to do it, I was even going to have myself a “writing date” somewhere to be determined, but certainly not at home. Do some pre-writing at work, as I’ve been able to do the past few days; leave work at 4:45; get to my hair appointment at 5:15; find a nice little wine bar at 7:30; write sexy smutty dirty stuff till 9:30,;be home by 10 and in bed doing a little reading by 11.
You know what they say bout the best laid plans.
First my coworker didn’t make it in again today, so rather than poking around in my head and playing with words a little bit throughout the day, I was scrambling to get both our jobs done. Then, at about noon, I realized that – hello – my appointment was at SEVEN fifteen, not 5:15. Okay, I think, I can work with this. I’ll sit somewhere and write BEFORE my appointment instead of after.
That evening leaving work I get drenched when the skies open up with buckets of water just as I walked outside. (This has no real bearing on my writing except that it made me a miserable, soggy, mess.) The restaurant, one I haven’t been to before, is entirely unsuitable to writing. But I grit my teeth and belly up to the bar with my tablet.
It is the worst service EVER. But it’s not the bartenders fault – she is alone behind the bar and running herself ragged because the bar is completely full.
It’s LOUD. I usually can’t write with any noise distractions, but dammit I’m going to try – #amwriting
There’s a couple next to me doing the preliminary mildly salacious chit-chat that folks do when they are working into getting into each other’s pants. But they are both in their later 60’s or so, and I squirm a bit at first, listening to them, but then as I hear them teasing, flirting and catching each other’s innuendos, I check my attitude: good for them! Who the fuck am I to be judgmental. I hope I still feel sexy and flirty when I’m 65.
Finally I give in and play Words With Friends on my phone while I eat my supper. I’ll have to write later…except I’ve forgotten what I wanted to write about. Oh, well –