I’d Rather Be Writing

I drudge through the monotony of each day which was the same as the one before and the one before that. I sit awkwardly in an unstable, uncomfortable ripping at the seams swivel chair and stare blankly at the blinking screen in front of me. As if reciting a monologue I answer the same repetitive questions and complete the same repetitive reports. I think to myself…

I’d rather be writing.

With five different excel spreadsheets open I review the ten orders that needed to be fulfilled yesterday. As if on queue I am handed fifteen invoices that need to be approved by the end of the day. I hear mocking with each scratch of my pen as I scribble out the twenty items on my “to do” list that need to be accomplished sometime this week. And I think to myself…

I’d rather be writing.

Why don’t these numbers match? Is this quote still good? This order hasn’t arrived. Why is my coffee cold? Wait we’re out of coffee and I need to order more?

I’d rather be writing.

Churning through ideas I can’t write down. Thinking of revisions I can’t touch. Plotting the next chapter I can’t research. Oh to even stare blankly at a page with writer’s block, words dancing at the edge of my mind waiting to be written.

I’d rather be writing.

I fight traffic to walk into a home filled with sweet faces I can’t say no to. I spring into action and begin googling the answers to questions on how to re do homework I used to do in middle school. The inquisitive beautiful face that looks like mine and speaks like me; she needs me to remember. After shoveling down a dinner that I won’t remember I am pulled to start dancing the hot dog dance with a curly haired bright eyed adorably demanding little boy. To end the night I kiss each innocent face as lullabies are sung and sweet eyes close. Sighing, I cuddle with the one whose strong roaming hands and warm lips I have missed all day. Although I adore each moment with them all; that nagging thought persists as I lay my head on my soft pillow; beat down and exhausted after a long day…

I wish I had written.

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