(Ah, work distractions. Who doesn't have them? I have to say, though, that I procrastinate enough without outside influences, but these are sort of funny so I thought I'd share some typical experiences around our place.)
Sometimes I like the way my downstairs office is set up, and sometimes I think it would be better if I worked inside a closet. That's because last week there were too many distractions outside the big window on the other side of my desk.
The first interruption was Sarah the pup. Hubby was off somewhere and it was such a nice day, so out the door went the dog. I clipped her tie-out to her collar, brought out her water dish and went back inside to get to work.
Sarah did her usual shtick - barking at squirrels, people, rabbits, Aerial the fire house dog, and blowing leaves. I got kind of used to the noise, though I worried about the neighbors becoming irritated.
It wasn't long before I noticed how quiet things were. Maybe the dog was sunning herself and chewing on rocks. About that time there was an odd sound coming from the front of the house: someone was banging on the door.
Usually I check the peephole but I just opened up the door and there stood our neighbor. "This is your dog, right?" he asked. Sarah was jumping around, anxious to get inside where she could hide. Despite numerous experts' silly opinions, I believe dogs do know when they've been naughty and our dog has had plenty of experience in that area. She wiggled herself past the two of us and headed for the kitchen.
The neighbor had a little more to say. "Her name's Sarah, right?" he asked. "She's really friendly, she came right to me when I called her name." Thank goodness for that, I thought. There are too many ways to lose a dog, and we don't want to imagine any of them. I thanked our neighbor, then found Sarah so I could give her a hug. Stupid pooch.
The next interruption came a few days later, on a Tuesday. Hubby was out of town, it was sunny and nice and I had a lot of work to do. So, out went the dog. However, since we couldn't find out how Sarah got loose the last time, we blamed the whole thing on me, figuring the latch wasn't properly attached to the collar. This time I checked it four times. This time, there would be no loose dog.
Not quite half an hour later, I took a break from staring at the computer screen and noticed two things: it was awfully quiet, and a giant shadow passed by the window. The blinds were shut, but I know I saw a blob-shaped something go by. It was time to poke my head out and say hi to Sarah.
When there was no answer, something made me look toward the front yard. Ah, there she was. The dog was jumping around having the time of her life because she was loose and she had a prize. I've never seen a bone that big, and it wasn't the kind you purchase at a pet store. This was from some large animal.
I called Sarah and she immediately stopped running and turned around to stare at me in defiance. She put her rump in the air and her head down on her front paws. It was play time. Taking hubby's advice, I acted as though I didn't care what she did next and it worked. She bounded into the front porch and we wrestled for the bone. It stayed on the porch, and Sarah went into the house, deeply disappointed.
Within a minute, the phone rang. It was our other neighbor calling to inform me that Sarah had dug up and stolen his dog's bone. I felt awful; I love that guy's dog - he's been around for years. I apologized, hung up and waited until hubby came home so I could tell him his dog was a thief. Thing is, neither of us can figure out how Sarah's been getting loose so we're not able to tie her out any more, and that's kind of sad.
The third interruption came courtesy of hubby plus a burn day. On Saturday, I headed for my desk and hubby headed for the back yard to get rid of some landscape waste. I guess I missed the part where he set a tree stump on fire in the front parking strip. About half an hour into my writing, I couldn't help but notice the shiny bright red fire truck that slowed down and parked in front of our house. Firemen jumped out and gathered around something in the front yard, and hubby walked up to join them.
The men were talking and pointing at the blackening tree stump that had tiny flames poking out of its holes. Someone had apparently reported an underground fire (I guess I'd never thought of that sort of thing around these parts), so the firemen came to check things out. Hubby was informed that putting charcoal on the stump would work better next time, then off they went. I went back into the house, put my work away and went upstairs to take a nap.
Truth be told, it's nice having a life that's never boring. That doesn't mean I want Sarah the pup to get lost forever or that underground fires are good. Maybe it means I should only work at the office; maybe working at home invites trouble.
Could be. Nothing odd has happened while I wrote this, safe inside the building at the corner of Main and Central.
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