All Thumbs

I totally didn't bring my computer on this trip. I wasn't thinking about it. Was excited to get on the road. Didn't even write it on my list of things to bring: toothbrush, earplugs, hat, vitamin C .....Nope no computer on the list. I can see it in my mind's eye, my little old laptop sitting there charging on my plastic folding table desk, the desk I settled on after a multi-desk string of failed desks in failed locations around the house.

After buying and re-selling, and finding and giving away several desks that did not work anywhere, not in the living room by the window, or in the corner tucked away, not in the bedroom, or in the bedroom closet which looked like such a cute idea on Houzz, not anywhere, after all that I got so desperate to have a desk that I hauled inside the filthy plastic folding table we'd gotten for Thanksgiving overflow a few years ago and had left "stored" on the side of the house.

I wiped it down minimally, meaning I got rid of the live spiders and major cobwebs, opened it up, stuck it in the middle of the room formerly known as the playroom/guest room/dump room/wannabe meditation/stretching room/jam session room, got my dusty yet comfy desk chair out of the garage, put it also in that weird room I never liked, and pronounced the room my office. I de-cluttered nothing.

And that's how I became one of those people who has a home office that they write in when they wake up every day, before the kid gets up and everything becomes about everything other than writing.

I'm that room, at that "desk," at an hour earlier than I ever thought I'd see except at the other end of a night out clubbing, that's where it's happening for me these days.

As I say this I feel a bit like one of those coupled people talking about "Gee when I was single I never I'd get coupled up and then bam it happened and it's so wonderful and it can happen for you toooooooo!"

When I was single I wanted to burn those happy coupleds with my eyeballs, just laser beam away their well-intentioned, but totally wrong-headed advice away from my no-way-not-me-princess-of-darkness-ness.

And that's the same kind of I-hate-you-so-much-you-have-what-I-want kind of feeling I used to have for daily writers, who would say annoying, hideous, loathsome, unforgivably not getting my particular brand of unique writer-who-doesn't-write/secretly writes/closeted writer-ness. Those bitches, male and female, many of whom I even paid money to or whose books I bought, those smug-pretending-to-be-not-smug-star-bellied-sneetches, those writers effing all say annoying things like, "If you're a writer, then you must write. And if you don't have to write, then just don't, and don't beat yourself up for it. There's lots of other things to do. But either do it or don't do it."

So I will not be one of those daily writers. No, I will not salt the wounds of my sister and brother humans who, like me, are working as best they can on this incremental journey, hungry for love, connection, truth, and frequently some kind of protein.

But I will say that I did forget my computer on this trip, and so I typed today's post, this post, 100% with thumbs, on my phone. And it was way easier than I thought it would be before I started.