I spent the better part of my adult life as a committed bachelor. You get good at living alone after awhile, learn skills, become a competent adult. And then one day you’re not single anymore and you learn a whole new set of skills, harder, more complex skills- compromise, forgiveness, unconditional love. And then one day the person you’ve given up bachelorhood for up and leaves for a three day business trip to New York and within fourteen hours you house has become a set piece for The Lord of the Flies. You find yourself eating coco puffs from a kettle with a wooden ladle in your tity-whities wondering why you never thought to put a urinal in your living room before, and hell, screw it, go for the full toilet, because sometimes you don’t want to miss you cartoons no matter what nature is calling you. Just for the record, she’s calling you a disgusting slob.
I know this can happen, but I like to think that I’ve grown up. This morning I said “No” to my baser impulses. I cleaned the house for four hours. I cleaned the gutters, I cleaned the drains, I pulled weeds, I planted seeds. There is not a mote of dust nor a stray dog hair anywhere to be found on the galactic expanse of my tile and hardwood floors. I swept the concrete patios, I trimmed the monkey grass… and now I’m drinking red wine out of my last Riedel™ Bordeaux style crystal because I’m a human being! I will shower and shave and sleep in a bed with clean sheets!
What I won’t do, however, is write. It’s curious, I always thought that if I had a deadline I would be more productive. To date I’ve used every deadline as a tool of procrastination. I have an essay on zombies due before April 20th (presumably well before as that is the publication date) and I am not writing it. Now to be fair its already written… three different ways, but I have to pick one and edit the little bastard. On top of this I have two stories that I really love that just need to be cleaned up for submission. Instead of doing these very vital things for my writing career, I am stealing irises from abandoned lots, scrubbing floors, and wondering how hard it’s going to be to put a urinal beside the couch.
Life is complications.
Sorry for the delay in posts. I’ve had plumbing projects.
The science of fiction.