The coffee is brewed and hot in the cup next to me.
I’ve managed to shower and eat before leaping into my office for some solitary writing time. Trust me. Incredible feats.
I do some yoga stretches, review my notes and settle in to meet my goal for the week – 1,000 words in my memoir.
I look up at the beautiful, 100-year-old windows facing my favorite color morphing tree (green in the spring, purple in the summer and fiery red in the fall) and spot a wasp hanging out against the glass.
I am going to get stung!
Yes. I am, in a small way, aware of the irrational thought process here but I can’t help but keep looking up at the window to confirm that the pain invoking wasp is indeed still buzzing against the glass.
It’s been 15 minutes of distraction. I have not written a thing.
However, due to my hyper vigilance, I know exactly where the wasp is…
Until I don’t.
Fudge! I am going to get stung.
So now I have to go looking for it. I know it’s here somewhere – hunting the innocent writer at her desk like a hungry wolf.
And I cannot find him or her. Are wasps like bumblebees? Are all the drones male? Is that a thing? I can’t remember.
All I know is that I am relieved that he has taken himself from whence he came.
And my computer screen blinks empty. Where was I? Oh yes. One thousand words.
Instead, I sit here living the proof –
Tomorrow, I will brandish better weaponry. I will open a window and let fear fly away.