I’m sitting in a Panera Bread using their free Wi-Fi (screw you Starbucks and your $6/hr connection).
I didn’t want to go home, because I have things to do, and at home there is stuff that exists for no other reason than to distract me.
e-Pregnancy has hired me to write a story and I’ve got my newly devised Disneyland Guide for Parents in the works. I’m also adapting a short story into a script. Real writing that requires my full attention.
Instead I am sitting here, tired as hell (less than 4 hours sleep last night, thanks Zane!) and doing all things but real writing. The biggest factor is exhaustion. I just can’t focus. Hell, I’m having way too much trouble typing this.
Now where was I?
A lesser, but compounding excuse is the fact that my view is either a table of older ladies looking at catalogs and enjoying baked goods, their own baked goods mind you, that they brought from home in their purses, or the bus stop out the window.
The bus stop is mesmerizing. It is filled with young, old and every color of the rainbow. There is more bling than anyone riding public transportation should own. It’s like a circus.
It fights for my attention, the bus stop, throwing jabs at the old broads and their purses filled with snicker doodles. They retaliate with waving fingers and flailing arms thick with flabby skin pressed tight against the lining of baggy flower-printed sweaters. They are fighting over me, and I am flattered.
It has lulled me to a level of complacency that I seldom visit, and the soothing sounds of Miles Davis blanket me as I feel the tug of sleep pulling me onward.
I need a nap, but will settle for another cup of coffee and the plentiful bounty of free Wi-Fi and the knowing that real writing can wait.