Saturday, May 9, 2009
I'm not completely crazy. I may have voices in my head that tell me to write stories, but I'm no fan of housework, chores, etc. Except this one little part-- a long established rule that goes back to when I was doing chores when I was growing up.
When I'm doing chores, all parties interested in staying safe, will stay away from the quilly one. Do not come near unless it is an announcement that cannot wait until I have finished and re-emerge. Something concerning bloody dismemberment or hospital stays. And, if you value life and limb, do not ever even consider attempting conversation with me.
See, I'm not here. I've shut out the real world and entered my own. I am plotting, creating characters, and, occasionally, working out dialogue. (Which, yes, does often result in me speaking... out loud... to myself. You know, like a crazy person. ;-)
I know about how long it will take me to do said task, whether it is dishes, mopping, or yardwork. I have a brain-ticket with a departure time for when I begin the task, and will return me when I am done. Do not bug me. Especially since most household tasks include the use of a weapon or weapon-like object. (Dishes has knives, though forks will work in a pinch. Mopping and brooming have lovely wooden handles. And yardwork has a delightful array of sharp and dangerous items. I warned you.)
I am fairly indifferent about chores. They have to be done. And I found my way to enjoy them. Oh, yeah, there's also a period immediate after completion of a chore where it's possible that any attempts at social activity will be met with a snarl as I scurry to record that Great Idea! that came to me while working. Just back away slowly, let me get to a pen and paper, and you'll keep all fingers.