Rainy days are made for writing and lounging on the couch with some coffee, a blanket and Barney, the family wiener dog. (He’s not supposed to be on the couch…but sometimes things happen, right?) The baby boy had just headed back to Florida, the baby girl was napping, hubby was outside in his man cave. Me, alone in the quiet, sipping coffee and thinking. What to do? Blog, of course.
As always before writing, I sat there and let my mind clear. I asked myself what was heavy on my mind today. Missing mom? Half an empty nest? Social Work dilemmas? Those topics didn’t seem to inspire any deep thoughts worth capturing. Food? Travel? Parenting? Still nothing. Marriage? Certainly not. (Some things are best left alone on certain days. Ha!!!)
When nothing sparked an interest, what was a writer to do? How could I call myself a writer if I had nothing to write about? Am I a writer only when ideas flow freely or am I always a writer just with the occasional mental block? Yes. I decided that I am always a writer…just with the occasional mental block.
Think Paula, think. What should today’s topic be? It was the perfect weather for writing…the perfect set up for writing. Just absolutely nothing on the brain worth typing.
Lost in my reverie, I glanced up at the front door as a fairly large, disheveled man jerked back and quickly fled down the front steps. My heart thudded in my chest as I quickly chided myself for not locking the front door but my mind also flooded with thought for the approximate nanosecond long debate, fight or flight? Dad didn’t raise a pansy so fight it was.
Thoughts continued to flood my mind as I jumped up and raced for the door. Had he been watching me? How long had he been watching me? Certainly he had been there for at least a second or two. Muttering numerous cuss words under my breath because of the frustrating scramble between keeping coffee cup upright, the blanket from wrapping around my ankles and Barney from hitting the floor, I finally made it to the door and grabbed the pistol.
My mind raced with fear as I knew my husband was in the man cave. I dashed for the cell phone to give heads up of the man in the yard. No answer of course. I knew what must be done.
I locked down the house, woke the baby girl, provided brief instructions to not open her door until I told her it was okay, set the house alarm and headed quietly out the back door, pistol in hand, ready for whatever was necessary.
Rolling my feet in stealth mode for the descent down the back steps, my eyes scanned for any movement, finger on the trigger, ready. If I hadn’t been so aloof and on edge, I would’ve probably been thinking “Dad would certainly be proud of the awesome skills he had taught me through the years of how to be a bad ass, not to take any shit and to protect you and yours at all cost”.
My back to the house, now on the ground at the bottom of the steps, I squatted down to scan the area, making myself as small as possible to watch the man cave for movement. Keeping my eyes open in constant surveillance, I grabbed my cell phone, flipped it to silent and thought to myself “you should’ve done that before you went outside, goofball”. (Dad would probably deduct some cool points because of that but at least I did it.) I also debated as to whether to send a quick text to the hubby to give heads up…I didn’t want to let Mr. Stranger Danger know someone was out in the man cave from hubby’s ringtone if he didn’t already know. My heart could have almost passed for a double bass pedal as I quickly decided…no text to hubby. Too risky.
Where had Mr. Stranger Danger gone? Did he leave the yard? I never heard a vehicle crank but I hadn’t heard one arrive either. Had he walked up? Had he broken down? If he had no ill intentions, why would he run when I saw him at the door? Still no movement from the man cave. I was frozen in fear. What to do next? Call out to Dan? Just walk over? There was no cover between the house and the man cave. Dad would not be proud if I had been that stealthy and bad ass up to that point, then got abducted, robbed or shot from being stupid right at the last minute. Think Paula, think. Why did I have to keep saying that to myself today?!
As I squatted at the foot of the steps in deep thought, still aloof, scanning the area and making decisions, I heard laughter erupt. Was it coming from the man cave? It seemed to be. If that was someone the hubby had been expecting and they were out there laughing about him freaking me out, I would give them both a piece of my mind…a tongue lashing like none before.
More laughter. I stood up with knees who were angry and frustrated with the length of squat time. Laughter increased in the distance. Putting the safety back on, I bound over to that man cave door and peered in as I heard “mom, wake up, you’re snoring”. The baby girl and hubby stood by the couch in laughter. Nice.
Apparently, I was thinking so hard about what to blog, I dozed off for a nap. Maybe rainy days are also for napping? But as you sip your coffee, just know that I heart writing fiction…and that Dad would most certainly have never condoned me walking out of that house…til the next pot is ready. ~paula
2 thoughts on “Rainy Days…”
My word Paula! You sure do know how to break up a rainy day!
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Ha! Yes ma’am! =)