Thursday, January 04, 2007

All Righty Then.

Lots to do, and I’ve spent most of this week finding ways to avoid doing it. Now, though, I’ve cleared the decks; the windows are open, and the fresh air is bracing. I’ve got seventeen tabs open in Firefox, got MusicMatch fired up and a pleasantly random soundtrack coming through (last up, Can: now up, Gnawa Musicians of Marrakesh: next up, T Bone Burnett); my kitchen timer is set for thirty-minute bursts of blazing activity, and I am just about ready to throw down.

I like to listen to music while I write, but more than that I like to run the dishwasher. It’s not just the lulling rhythm of its chunk and whoosh in the next room that I find reassuring—it’s the consolation that even if the words don’t come, even if I spend an hour stewing in my own flopsweat as my deadline comes crashing down, at least I’m getting my pots and pans clean. The day isn’t a total loss.

Machine’s not full enough to justify running it now, though. Ah well.
Locked, cocked and ready to rock: Let’s get it on.

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