This morning I have writer's block. I start a sentence and I delete it. I think I am going to write about one thing, but dismiss it as stupid and uninteresting. This picture of the petrified forest accurately reflects my thoughts at the moment. The scattered trunks are the sentences I threw away...I find the children noisy, and everybody is trying to talk to me at the same time.
I had a dream last night, that my basement had been transformed into a movie theatre, but the renovation was only partly completed...Hold on a moment while I read the play my son is writing about King Arthur, "Wonderful, darling..." Where was I? Oh, yes! The movie theatre was only partly completed, the ruby red rug did not reach the end of the room, and there were only a few rows of seats...Excuse me for a moment as I look at my son's lego sword, "Really cool Honey..." So there were only a few rows of seats, and a whole bunch of children came in, 6 of them, they sat on the front row, not leaving space for me and Rolfe... " Why are you crying honey? Sheridan give the doll back to Skye..."
No room for Rolfe and I? Sometimes I guess it does look like that is true. What do you think?!
So there I am, wondering what the hell is causing the petrification? The computer is sitting on a tiny corner of a table covered with the result of days of unattended accumulation. There I am sitting, trying to think what could be causing the block, and the reason is staring me in the face. The house looks like there was a nuclear explosion in it, and I am trying really hard to ignore the fact. I have to clean, but I don't want to, I try really hard to do anything but that, and in its mysterious ways, my brain freezes so that I cannot engage in any other activity! Damn brain! Forgive my language!
See the reason I don't want to clean is simple, there is the sock, Alexandra's gorgeous, luscious, poppy red, wavy, ostrich feather sock. I am half way down the foot, so close to the end. I could just forget about the mess and knit the sock. Indecision is the problem. I am petrified because I cannot chose to either knit or clean. So right now, I am pathetically sitting in the messy house with a sad unfinished sock!
Hey, I know, since I cannot clean , nor knit, maybe I'll just plant tulips! What do you think, Doc? Bad case of startitis?