This is an old post… but I am re-sharing it in November 2012 for the Write on Edge prompt “Gratitude.”
Today was most definitely a Monday.
Even though I ignored the dishes and only did as much laundry as I absolutely had to do, there was always something more facing me, insisting Take Care of This Right Now!
There has been no time for writing.
To make things worse, I’m feeling particularly OCD today. My brain will not focus on what I want it to focus on. I’m writing interview questions for Sarah Barnard, who has been so very gracious about me getting the questions to her rather late. But while browsing all the information on her sites, I keep finding more than I can process! This often happens while I’m researching interview questions. Also, my OCD brain really wants to skip ahead to NaNoWriMo and start on that story right away. But the rules say we don’t begin writing until November 1. Besides, there are other things, like Synaesthesia, that I want to finish first.
And then, to top it off, I stepped in something squishy.
My three-year-old’s first Play Dough.
Now stuck in the rubber crevasses in the bottom of my slipper.
Now squished into a thin crepe on the kitchen linoleum.
One might think this experience made my day even worse, my mood more foul…
But it did not.
Instead, I remembered the first time I found Play Dough on the floor.
Or more specifically, hopelessly ground into the living room carpet.
At that time, I was almost gleefully happy to find the mess. You see, for almost ten years, my husband and I thought we would never have Play Dough ground into our living room carpet. Infertility had taken us by surprise; I’d always thought it would be easy for me to get pregnant, but even starting at age twenty-five, it did not turn out to be so simple.
We’d been married more than ten years when we finally brought our six-year-old daughter home.
It was her Play Dough in the carpet that time.
So this time, I really didn’t mind it so much.
The shortlink for this post is http://wp.me/p1qnT4-qJ