Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Did I Mention It Is Too Hot?

Did I Mention It Is Too Hot?

I hear Dean's voice from down the hall -

"Do you know those days when you just can't find a pen?"

Currently under my bed I know those days where you just can't find anything. London may be melting, our kitchen may be approximately 120 degrees and my skin may be moving from blue -to white - to red and back again but, some how, we have decreed it time to tidy. This is what happens when I should be writing a play and there is no more tennis for me to watch.

"Yes" I say, disentangling myself from a sleeping bag, a wicker basket and a mallet. Free, I look up.

Dean is now standing in my doorway looking sheepish, his hands full of enough pens to supply a small stationery shop for a month.

"These might have been in one drawer".

I look at him, shake my head and then return from whence I came, in the hope that life might make more sense seen from under my bed.

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