Sacred Writing Time -- Strike One

I had a strange dream last night.

You know what I would do if there was an earthquake?

Can you do the closure on my bra?

Then the dog stepped on my foot.

You know why I love the internet?

And in my dream I:   (insert HUGE story here).

Could you get the stuff ready for me cleaning the back door? I can't find the vinegar.

I'm hungry. I'm not saying you have to get up right now and get me something, I'm just saying that if I get too much more hungry, I'll get a little bit grumpy.

Yaw-Hoo! Yea, Baby! Uh-huh, Oh Yeah! (exclaiming over the computer game my son is playing.)

I take it the dishwasher is clean.

I would wait except for the fact that I'm so hungry it hurts!

Poison Arrow! (more computer gaming) Booya! Poison, poison, poison, poison, poison!

Will you stop chanting poison?

What? It's a poison arrow. (pause) Fine.

Two slices of deli meat.

Deli meat? What do you mean deli meat?

Turkey.

Oh.

My work time/writing time is from 10am to noon. This is the rule around here. I write, the kids leave me alone unless there is blood or a fire.


Today. It didn't work so much.