Gotta get some words down

It’s been too long. At least I’ve got a lot of reading done. I can’t get the sound of Ignatious Reilly’s valve thunking shut out of my mind, or the image of him gobbling down hot dogs.

Anyway, I am going to use this blog to loosen up some brain cells in order to get me going again. The world could use some diversion now. The crappy current political situation gives me another reason to speed it up. I better get these novels done before our esteemed world leaders blow us all to bits.

Music always does it. I’m blasting some Dandy Warhols and it never fails, that, and cowbells, and Prince guitar solos, and SpaceX landings and takeoffs. I’m pretty easy to please.

Hot coffee on the front porch

It’s a bright and brisk day. I feel the heat from the ceramic mug before I take a sip of the hot brown treasure. Today is unseasonably cold but I cannot stay inside. The air is too fresh, the colors of the dogwood leaves so vivid rust red, that I wish this cold morning would never end.

Eating Cheerios in the Dark

The humid air clings to me like plastic wrap. I am sitting in my rocking chair on the front porch between two fans. A chorus of frogs and crickets is finishing their nightly concert.

After taking a sip of coffee, I dip my spoon into a white china bowl, scooping up milk and cheerios, slurping greedily. I turn and look into the abyss — our gutted living room, dining room, and kitchen.

On top of broken and cracked floorboards, metal electrical cable lies coiled, as if waiting to strike. Garbage is strewn everywhere and sour-smelling plaster dust coats everything in the room.

I shudder and turn back to my cheerios, a small normal phenomenon that helps me keep my sanity during the home renovation that has consumed our lives.

Who knows what torture lies ahead? More inspections, fibers from insulation embedding themselves in the tender tissue of our lungs, Sheetrock, spackling, and the horror of sanding, dust everywhere, in every pore, every crevice of everything around us.

Will we survive this ordeal? Despair, penury, and doom loom in the future — hope has abandoned us. Will the plumber come today? or the electrician? or the inspector? or will we sit, and wait and wait and wait, with no progress at all, on another day, of the endless days, of the stifling hot, humid, dog days of summer.

Beware, unsuspecting homeowner, do not be deceived by the promises of anyone, no matter how trustworthy, the fates will inevitably intervene and delay your project in the most diabolical manner conceivable. Your hopes will rise and you will be giddy with joy when small progress is made, but don’t let this inflate you with optimism — the anvil of the unexpected will smash your overconfidence and crush it into oblivion. Nothing will get done most days and all of your begging, whining, and pleading will have no effect at all. If anything, your project will move backwards. You will need to move electrical outlets, drill holes, open up Sheetrock, close Sheetrock, it will never end, the dust, the dirt, the whir of drills, the machine gun fire of the air compressor, the vicious blows from the hammer guns, the whine of saws, and of course the tiny particles in the air that seize your throat in a choke-hold every time you enter the construction zone, and last but not least, don’t forget the sickly sweet odor of sewer gas from the vents for the new kitchen sinks.

Is it all worth it? The expense, the agony, the sweat, tears, coughing, lack of sleep, hunger, and thirst that you will suffer if you have the hubris, the cockiness, the false pride and confidence to ever attempt to renovate your home. Woe to you, dreamer, abandon your wild thoughts of a bigger room, new appliances, and cabinets. Plant yourself on solid ground and look away from the beautiful kitchens in the magazines — it is not for you, a mere mortal.

This might be a good time.

This might be a good time to regroup, to start over, to get going,  to wake up early, and to rejoin the race.

It’s been over a year and I’m long overdue. Maybe the sunshine this morning did it. Or maybe it is because I woke up early, and tossed and turned until I had no choice but to tiptoe out of the bedroom, into the darkness of the quiet house.

Well, here I am, punching the plastic, waiting for thoughts to pour out onto the screen.

Maybe today is the day.

I’m back

Chickens and vegetables have been my downfall. The hens are four months old and the raised beds are covered in vines, and carrots past their prime. Only a massive expenditure of energy could bring order to the chaos in my backyard.

As if this wasn’t enough to try the soul of any human,  my earthly shell has been afflicted by shingles. In the past week, I have pondered the meaning of pain. A simple virus is teaching me about this important characteristic of life.

In spite of all this, or maybe it is a result, I have decided to put fingertips to keyboard again. This is my first hesitant step.

BFDA Silver Honoree

The Abscission Zone is a Silver Honoree in the 2016 Benjamin Franklin Digital Awards

Whoopee! The Abscission Zone is a Silver Honoree.

Thanks to the IBPA Judges and readers.

 http://www.ibpa-bfda.org/winners/the-abscission-zone/

Check out this link to see the other winners:

The Benjamin Franklin Digital Awards – http://www.ibpa-bfda.org/

Cover of The Abscission Zone

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The Abscission Zone by Samuel Muggington

The Abscission Zone

by Samuel Muggington

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