Sunday, August 7, 2011

Coffee and Cat Pee

Yesterday, deafened by the sound of my screaming children, I decided to hand the reigns over to my husband for a few hours and take my laptop somewhere without so many interruptions.

Granted, the screaming wasn't the heart-wrenching I'm-super-upset-with-everything-and-my-life-sucks kind of screaming but the "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! I know you're in the other room! Why aren't you in here with us? Why won't you come and stare at us all afternoon? Mommy!!!"

Alas, I cannot concentrate with my children clamoring for my attention, which they get more than enough of the other six days a week. So, I packed up my notes and my laptop and decided to head into town and find somewhere cool and sans my children to get some work done.

First, the freaking library was the most happening place in town on this fine Saturday afternoon. Apparently the librarians all rushed into phone booths, ripped off their beehived-hairdos and polyester pantsuits and donned their "we're here to party" super-hero personae sometime before I arrived. Unfortunately, along with their I'm-a-grandmother-ten-times-over fashion sense, they also left their crabby "shushing" voices and wagging fingers behind as well. It was so f-ing loud in there!

Where else do writer's go? I've heard of people writing in coffee shops so I thought, why not?

The first shop I entered, I did a round of the place and walked right back out. The place was a fire hazard there were so many people crowded into the too-hot room. Since half of those people were under the age of 5, it totally ruined any chances of me getting work done.

Finally, I settled on another coffee shop. No children, but the in-depth discussion of "Cats are mystical, intellectual creatures" that was going on in one corner of the joint was a bit distracting. It was, however, humorous because while they argued for the probability that cats domesticated humans and not the other way around, I watched a stray cat on the sidewalk pee on the tire of mustang convertible like a dog, then crawl on top of said tire, stretch out, and begin to nap surrounded by the comforting aroma of urine in 90 degree heat.

Needless, to say, I did not accomplish any significant writing.