Where are you? Be literal if you want to. Describe what you see, and in doing so, help us feel what you're feeling right now. If you want, try this from the point of view of a character in your WIP.
I sit at a desk covered with:
mosaic tiles (various shades of purple) and a pair of tile nippers (dusty from disuse)
a camera dock
a children’s books-themed cigar box purse
an “I Read Banned Books” bracelet from the ALA
a tall sweaty glass of iced tea
I see my garden through the window, and I hear belching from the family room.
My big rambling rose (really … it’s technically a ‘rambler’) slumps over in front of my office window. It’s a “Paul’s Himalayan Musk” rose and if you click on the name, you’ll see what it should look like when it feels happy and supported. Mine is no longer happy and, in a fury of self-destruction, came tumbling off its support today. A week of heavy rains will do that to a ramblin’ rose.
I hear two eight-year-olds watching “The Sand Lot” in the other room. Cole’s friend E seems extravagantly fond of belching. I never realized how lucky I am that Cole is mostly a peer-pressured recreational belcher.
I feel the pain of inspiration.
No, I literally feel the pain of inspiration. It hurts when I take a deep breath.
I dunno what I did last Saturday … but I ripped something … or pulled something … or … well, the Physician’s Assistant yesterday (I finally broke down after nine days of pain and went to the walk-in clinic) claims I must have torn my chest wall.
Can that be right? It sounds so fatal and incapacitating. He described it as … that thin membrane you see holding ribs together. If you tear it, it takes for-fricking-ever for it to heal, because it never really gets to rest … you use it every time you breathe. And sneezing? OMG. It’s allergy season. ‘nuff said.
(Wow, another massive belch. My kid this time, I think.)
Anyway, I’ve been in middling but constant pain for ten days now, which means I’m hindered in my gardening chores. I’m pretty much soldiering on and taking ibuprofen, because dang! We don’t get many sunny days and I have seeds to sow and weeds to pull!
In fact, take a peek over my garden gate:
This is Constance Spry, and she’s mostly done blooming.
Here’s a blueberry cobbler update:
But back to the Monday Morning Warm-Up!
I see a furtive black dog French-kissing and nibbling one of the visiting flip-flops … no, DeeJay! It’s one thing to eat our shoes … must you anger our guests by chewing their shoes?
I hear a gas-powered something outside. Loud! People, can’t you settle down and enjoy the day off?
Oh, wait. I think it’s my own DH. I did mention the looming laurel bush. And he dearly loves power tools.
Oh for the love of Pete, enough with the whacking of the nerf ball against the bedroom door! Go play ping-pong, you kids!
I see a story in my head that wants me to tell it.
I’m going to sign off LJ-Land, and attempt to appease the story.
You may go now.
jbknowles, I’m sorry! I have failed the MMW-U! I turned the writing prompt with all of its colorful potential into possibly the dullest post in the history of blogging. Forgive me!