Don’t Ask a Writer an Open-ended Question

Yesterday, a friend asked me an innocent question in email: “How is your day, moving right along?” The following is what he got from me in response.

I’ve been outside since about the time you sent this. (You realize that you just asked for a long story, right? Because I have to start at the beginning …)

Yesterday’s schedule got messed up – a lunch appointment had to be changed to dinner – which messed up my plans to go out for a walk after lunch, and so I just wasn’t very productive yesterday. Only a page and a half on the book. Was also still taken aback by that vehement response to my blog subscription reminder. So ONE person doesn’t appreciate what I’m trying to do here!

I was determined to get in my walk today. But it was raining more and later than the previous day’s forecasts had seemed to indicate. Soooo, I had no choice but to suck it up and write the part about when I was laid off from [company name]. That was definitely procrastination worthy. But I did it. With fear and trembling and four pages later, there it was.

About that time it stopped raining, appropriately, and I thought I deserved a break. First lunch, then my neighborhood exploratory “can” walk. (Did I tell you I’m a bag lady?) I’ve taken to combing the streets to pick up aluminum cans for cash recycling, and I get a little exercise (and a lot of strange looks) in the process. I did this back in 1990 when I was out of work! Back then, I rode a bicycle on my rounds. I got more than strange looks then.

After what was maybe an hour and a half sojourn and a Macy’s bag full of cans, I returned home. (I love the juxtaposition of a Macy’s bag to contain the pittance that the cans will bring, as well as the dichotomy in being a Macy’s bag lady.) The cans are “processed” in my backyard, where I have a large tub full of rainwater to wash them in. Some of them can be pretty nasty and I’m not just talking about dirt. (Oh yeah, I wear gloves when I comb the streets. But I did get a cut on my finger today by a jagged edge. I am nothing if not hygienic at my every, earliest convenience, and I think I shall live despite this injury.)

So now that the wind has dried up just about everything including my skin, I cannot resist hanging out in the yard to tackle some of the weeds that dare show their ugly heads so soon. (Did I tell you that I’m a weed fanatic, aka the neighborhood crazy lady?) I got out my trusty little stool that I always sit on to get up close and personal with these here weeds. I want them to know who’s yanking them out of the ground on which they trespass!

And by the time my back says “Enough!” it’s well after 4:00. That, my friend, is how I rolled today. From here, in the absence of any phone calls or emails that say they absolutely must speak to me to offer me my dream job (or any ole job), I am about to do some coloring.

I’ve gone completely round the bend! I’ve regressed to childhood. No, my roots are showing, dude, so I’m coloring my hair. If only my hair could regress to childhood. Shocking, I know, but I’m not a natural grey head. Gooey, smelly fun awaits!

Later, P 🙂

OMG. I think you just witnessed my next blog post!

    • Techquestioner
    • February 25th, 2011

    If you’re ever in my area, feel free to attack the weeds in my flowerbeds and yard.

    • Ann Smith
    • February 25th, 2011

    Cheers to the Macy’s bag lady and boo to whoever was such a grouch about your subscription request.

      • Paula Robertson
      • February 25th, 2011

      Thank you, Ann! Love you!

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