This morning I found myself still distracted by a vicious (yet strangely satisfying) confrontation last night. It kept replaying…you know how it goes. “Oh, I wish I’d said this.” “Darnit, I should have told them that!” Built-in distraction. I could feel my blood pressure rising.
Fortunately, I managed to get my head on straight and start in on the second-to-last chapter of my client’s book. Oh, so close to completion! Still, distractions were abundant. Twenty-month-old Baby M insists that she is the center of the universe. I can’t quite argue with that, since I feel much the same about her. She brought me an electronic story-book reader that had somehow fallen into two pieces. Being the wonderful mommy I am, I not only fixed it, I also screwed off the cover and replaced the batteries.
What was I thinking?
I’m now inundated with an electronic female voice telling me to “Please insert a book to begin. Please insert a book to begin. Please insert… Please insert… Please insert a book to begin.”
In vain, I searched for one of the Sesame Street books made for this demonic invention. Nothing. Nada, Zilch. They’ve vanished. Yes, all of them. So, as I try to concentrate on plot and tension at the climax of this novel, I find a blue-and-yellow My First Story Reader shoved across my keyboard with the insistent reminder, “Please insert a book to begin…”
Where’s that screwdriver?