I Don't Like Girls Looking At Me
My four year old said he was off to rinse in the lake, then stopped. Never mind. Why never mind? I don't like it when girls look at me. What girls? He pointed at a mother and daughter walking past, entirely uninterested in him. He waited until they rounded the corner, then finally went.
I didn't get any writing done yesterday, and today is almost over. Everyone was angry with everyone. Today hasn't been much better. Those "bad" days don't inspire me to write. Or at least there’s nothing I can write which I should publish online. When I'm hidden away in my office trying to get work done, it's nothing but chaos and yelling around the house. When I sit down in the living room, the kids are suddenly happy, helpful and (relatively speaking) calm. But, of course, I don't get any work done while I'm sitting up there. It's almost like a switch flips as I start down the stairs into the basement, where the whininess and discontentedness engages as I disappear.
It would hurt my productivity, and be a massive pain, but I've toyed with the idea of just relocating my office into the middle of the main floor.
