Wednesday, December 1, 2010

The Chaotic Life of a Creative Writer Amidst Pooch Pals, Puppy Poop and Book Clutter (1)

By Miriam Medina

Hello, it's 4 am again, my usual wake-up time. Believe it or not, this is the best part of my day, a time when I'm able to be creative. I didn't sleep too well last night. I guess I was thinking too much of what I was supposed to write about today before I went to work. Maybe It was something I ate? Oh I know, it must have been that chili I got from Wendy's. I love chilli beans, but it can lead to a lot of gas and indigestion. Oops, it smells like one of the dogs needs to go outside. Most likely its T.J., he gets excited when I wake up. The pleasure of seeing me has both my dogs going in circles, running towards the door. After several years of having dogs, my nose has become an expert in regards to their gas smell I can proudly and sadly say that I can identify which one is ready to go. I better hurry up before T.J., my mean, ferocious, spiteful miniature poodle (yes, a poodle can be ferocious, you'd be angry if you were a guy and everybody thought you should wear pink sweaters too) pisses on my leg or craps on the floor. I call him the "Crapper," because he walks and craps at the same time.

Is that normal?

Once in a while he has an accident in the house. Or maybe I should call it on purpose, because I think he does it to spite me. As soon as I see him starting to bend over, I run for a plastic bag, throwing myself into a prostrate position trying to catch it like a catcher with a baseball glove, but he doesn't stay still long enough in one place to discard it.!!@#$%^&*. So there I sit, lying on the floor with the bag in my extended hand and my face only a couple of inches away from his fresh pile. Yay T.J., you hit a home run. Good job boy. Maybe I will make you wear a pink sweater from now on, with a bow on your head to boot.'s only 4 a.m., T.J., give me a break, let me get a cup of coffee at least. Why can't you be like Buddy?' Please hold on to it little fella, at least until I open the door. For Pete's sake, it's pouring outside, now what do I do? The designated dog walking area is located across the street, this is where every one is supposed to go, but for today, since no one is around Fugheddaboudit! Good thing my apartment is on the ground floor with a large grassy area in front. That's why I bought an extended leash. Hell I'm not going to go there in my nightgown, holding an umbrella with a flashlight and a pooper-scooper in my hand. It's bad enough I have to follow the little bastard around the house with a bag like a deranged baseball catcher chasing a bunt. I'll be drenched while I wait, and my shoes will get water-logged. So who's going to know, anyway, only my neighbor, Fred, who has the habit of walking across the lawn on the way to his car?

Sorry Fred, I sincerely hope you and your shoes have a pleasant day, and don't forget to wipe your feet before entering the car. Thank God, the deed is done, maybe it's OK to sit down now and have my coffee, so I can get into my writing before I go to work. I looked at the clock and noticed that it was already 5 a.m. and I can't believe that I wasted a whole hour already on crap, literally. Still half asleep, I brewed a fresh pot of coffee. As usual, my faithful notepad and pen lie nearby with the book I was researching last night, so I could jot down my notes and thoughts while I sipped my coffee. Holy cow, this is strong.... with all this agitation, I must have slipped in an extra spoonful. Even though I know the coffee will give me heartburn, I need a pick up so I can shock my mind to fully wake-up and write. I'll deal with the heartburn. I shouldn't complain, one must be grateful for the small things in life... heartburn and all.

Okay, now my ritual of consuming vitamins and medication is finished, which seems to increase every time I go for my usual examination at the doctors. I take so many pills I look like a chipmunk hoarding enough nuts in my mouth to make it through the winter each morning. I think I would feel incomplete if I didn't have a prescription or blood work paper in my hand each time I left the doctor's office.

I'm finally awake and on my computer, ready to work for an hour or two on my usual three page essays, or on my latest article "Romancing the Age... etc., etc." I'm wondering where my keyboard is. I'm sure it had to be here on my desk before I went to bed. Ahhh! There it is, buried under the pile of paperwork. Uh, oh, I think the Chili beans are working on me. I guess I won't need Metamucil today. It must have been the coffee that stirred me up. Wow, what a relief. Now if, I could just find my earphones so I can listen to my new age music. Oops, there, it is, on the floor. So glad I didn't step on them.

To be continued: (2)

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