On the inside, looking out

[desperance]

Damn, I hate being trapped in the house.

I don't believe I got outside the door yesterday, but that was different; I'm on a writing-jag, I'm working, sometimes I don't notice.

Today I can't leave, because I'm waiting in for a delivery. Which is of course the surest way to ensure it doesn't come, but my telephonoia is such that I really, really hate having to call companies and ask them to redeliver, so here I am and here I remain.

It's not like I don't have things to do indoors. I have houseguests at the weekend; I could, y'know, clean the house. Do laundry. Like that. Also, there are books to write. And so on, so forth.

But. Look, there's a world out there. And because I am in here, I suddenly have all these reasons to go elsewhere. Me and the cats: we stare out of windows and are trapped, while the damn' tormenting birdies flutter about in freedom. Tweeting.

Comments

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

More houseguests? Truly, this is a Whole New Chaz! No point in tweeting at you, then?

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Indeed. There are people! They come! I am, ahem, unprepared for their advent. Why am I chipping ice from the bottom of my fridge, when there are conspicuously more urgent housetasks?

What did you want to tweet about?

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

What did you want to tweet about?

When a post starts by bemoaning your housebound state, my natural reaction is to try to lure you out to play. As long as you're writing, obviously, you must write, but once you complain of being trapped...

[desperance.livejournal.com]

I know, I knooooowwww - but I am trapped to a purpose, two purposes. Three. I must write books; I must clean house; I must wait for package.

Package is the copy-edit of the new novel, and I already have not-enough-time to work through it. If I miss its delivery, and then have houseguests - well. I will have negative time. Which would be bad.

*drinks more coffee*

*jitters*

*waits*