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Those Little Distractions

I had some quiet time at home on Sunday. My husband had lunch with his mother and then went to our farm to cut wood and haul some brush away. I opted to stay home and write. I had a great story idea that I was anxious to get on paper. I also had some housework I wanted to get done and one project I’ve been itching to finish.

A great writer once told me that we should get all of our housework done before we sit down to write because it will drive us crazy if we don’t. Her theory is that we don’t want to be interrupted by the washer, dryer, dishwasher, or oven. If we do it first, we can have clear minds to create our best work. It’s good in theory.

I don’t know about you, but for me, one project morphs into another. The library table I wanted to move had been in my breakfast nook for a month or two. Don’t ask. It has to do with painting the kitchen and moving the chuck wagon. See? I told you not to ask.

I began by measuring the table and the space where I wanted to put it. Then I formulated a plan. My plants had been in my bathroom for a few days due to my efforts in rearranging my study. I decided that my library table would be the perfect home for my plants in front of my study window where they can enjoy the eastern morning sun as they have for many years.

The set of plastic drawers they’ve always perched upon were meant to be a temporary home for my houseplants. It worked for a few years until it finally gave up the ghost and warped beyond all repair.

I cleaned off the table and removed its drawer. I then cleaned off my desk and moved it back from the window by eighteen inches. I wanted to put the table between my desk and the window. I originally planned to perch my plants on my desk, but they took up too much space. (They’re big plants.) Moving the desk by myself took great effort because it’s solid wood, five feet long, and two feet wide. It is one heavy piece of furniture.

While I was in the study, I noticed the recycling needed sorted and boxed, so I did that real quick. When I ran into my bedroom to get my car keys from my purse so I could put the bundled recycling in my trunk, I realized I hadn’t washed my sheets this week.

I stripped my bed so I could wash my sheets and popped into the bathroom to grab the dirty towels to wash with them. That’s when I noticed the sink needed cleaned. I took my towels and sheets into the laundry room and snagged the paper towels and bathroom cleaner. Then I went back to the bathroom and took care of the sink. That’s when I noticed the toilet was dirty. So, I gave it a quick scrub, too.

I went back into the laundry room and checked the dryer where I found my first load of clothes dry. I hung those up, transferred a load from the washer to the dryer, and started the sheets and towels. I was about to get back to my project when a pungent odor wafted to my nose.

I smelled dog pee. Just a whiff, but definitely close. So, I sniffed the air like a predator on the prowl. I followed my nose to Taco’s dog bed where he had drenched it to the point it was soaked through. (Taco takes medicine that makes him lose control of his bladder.)

I tossed the bed in a bucket where I sprayed it down with fabric refresher to try to calm the odor I’d stirred up by disturbing it. The bucket and spray worked until I could wash it. I grabbed my antibacterial cleaner and paper towels and cleaned the pee off my tile.

By this time, I was thirsty. I opened my fridge to find one lonely Diet Coke. No tea. I opened my refreshing drink and started some sun tea, which I set out on the back deck. While I was in the kitchen, I cleaned out the refrigerator, unloaded the dishwasher, loaded it with the dirty containers from the fridge, and started a cycle.

Unfortunately, my library table didn’t decide to walk into my study while I was distracted, so I returned to my project. I had to lift the table over my head and twist around my desk due to my spacial issues. (My multiple book shelves make the room a bit tight.) Getting the drawer back in was a challenge because I hadn’t left enough room between the table and my desk. I tipped the table up and held it steady with my leg while I worked the drawer onto its rollers.

It was after 3 o’clock by this point, and my stomach was growling. That’s when I realized I hadn’t had lunch. The only thing I’d eaten that day was a bagel thin for breakfast. Bagel thins are less than half the size of regular bagels. I buy them because they only have 22 grams of carbohydrate as opposed the 50 grams of carbohydrate found in my favorite bagels.

Since it was the middle of the afternoon, I decided to have a health shake instead of an actual meal. I opened my protein shake package, which contained exactly one scoop/one serving. I shook my protein powder into milk and realized that meant I wouldn’t be able to have a shake for breakfast on Monday. With this in mind, I boiled some eggs.

I sipped my protein shake as I went about covering my table with a cheerful cloth and returning my plants to their window. The African Violets were quite thirsty, and my iris had decided to send a runner through its basket. After taking care of the plants, I put my desk to rights.

Then I took Taco outside because he had that look. I was right and probably saved myself another load of laundry by staying outside while he did his job. He has a tendency to come inside before he’s completely finished if I’m not out there with him. I brought the sun tea in when we returned to the air conditioned comfort of our house.

By this time, my sheets were ready to go into the dryer and I tossed Taco’s bed into the washer with a blanket for balance. I always use Lysol Laundry Sanitizer in things that Taco has marked or had accidents on. Given the soaking his bed suffered, I used the maximum amount of sanitizer and my strongest laundry soap.

Around 4 o’clock, I sat down, kicked off my shoes, rested my poor swollen feet on the cool hardwood floor, and opened my laptop to get some writing done. I checked my email and thought this craziness should be shared. So, I began this post. At 4:15 p.m., my husband walked in the door and asked me what I was making for dinner. When I asked him what he wanted, he told me he wanted me to go to the store to buy his favorite cubed ham and make him some ham & beans.

You could not have paid me enough to put those shoes back on and go out in the heat, braving the public, just to buy cubed ham. I told him I’d make him some beans, but I’d use another cut of pork from the freezer. He argued.

My eyes may or may not have flashed with the light of dangerous intent. I may have been louder than necessary when I explained a trip to the store wasn’t happening. After further debate, he decided to have leftover soup instead.

By the time that argument was settled, I couldn’t remember what story I was planning to write. It was for an upcoming contest, but my Muse had left me. I didn’t even remember whether it was a ghost story or a romance.

I went ahead and made his beans for him, but I used pork chops that I cut into cubes instead of ham. He begrudgingly ate his beans. All said and done, it was 7 o’clock by the time I finished this post and you couldn’t tell I’d done a thing.

This kind of thing never happens at the Women’s Getaway Writers Retreat. Thank you for reading Ozarks Maven! If you’ve enjoyed my little seeds of wisdom and job, please subscribe to Ozarks Maven, Like Ozarks Maven on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter @OzarksMaven.

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