I write at a faux cherry stained wood desk from Office Max. Though a chair and lap would suffice. My fingers glide across a keyboard like a pianist’s on a piano.
I get a whiff of Fresh Linen Febreeze or Calming Lavender in my selective nostrils, but you may catch a hint of dog or the stubborn scent of the house’s previous owners that I’ve labeled as “old people”.
Somehow light gets through an eastern facing window, by dodging the smudges from unprofessionally cleaned window panes or refracting through tiny rips in the block shade that I routinely pull down to the floor until the force sends the vinyl back up, spinning around the reel. Never settling in at the desired height.
I may hear the dog pawing at the carpet in his dreamy sleep or the reverberating bass of a car stereo. Mostly, I hear the click click click of the keys. Trying not to mimic or observe as I usually do, but create something.
I feel a little chilly because I refuse to turn the heat up.
I focus on the computer screen. If I turned around, the inanimate objects would only remind me of the things I’d like to do. The hanging Pothos and Bonsai tree tell me their leaves need dusting and some water would taste good. The Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami rests on an electric green side table and begs for attention.
I lose track of my surroundings and pay more attention to my thoughts, which are even more Devilish than these Details.
This post was inspired by WordPress’ Weekly Writing Challenge. Give it a try: You have one paragraph to pull the reader into the space you’re sitting in right now. Go.