My husband is having his wisdom teeth out today. Which means he’ll be home for the next four days. Which means he’ll be interrupting my routine. Which means I’ll be running around catering to his every whim. Which means he’ll be bogarting the computer.
Don’t get me wrong, I love it when my husband is home. I love spending time with him. And therein lies the problem. He’s a distraction.
As a lot of you can probably attest to, writers already have an infinite number of distractions as it is. We are our own distractions. Daydreaming, ‘researching’ on the internet, people watching. Our brains wander all day. Add other people to that, and we’re basically doomed.
Then you’ve got the fact that my household only has one laptop. Unless you count the one I’m typing on right now. Which I don’t because it’s a tiny netbook that has a war with the internet every time I try to connect (I’ve literally spent the past half hour trying to get my dashboard to load properly) and has a keyboard more suited to a mouse than a human. Maybe I should give it to my chinchilla; she could probably get more use out of it. I actually think this computer was designed as a torture technique. If I go to Hell, this machine will be waiting for me, and I will spend eternity trying to get it to work.
So, distraction laden, tiny computer days are ahead of me. What to do? Maybe I’ll just feed the hubby copious amounts of turkey and chamomile tea and hope he pulls a Sleeping Beauty so I can be distraction-free and use the big-boy computer. I’ll kiss him to break the spell for work Monday morning.