Ah…the writing life

Here I am, living the romantic life of a writer.  Surrounded by stacks of books and paper and too much dust.  My writing room is always the least tidy of the house.  I think it’s because when I come in here, the last thing I want to think about is straightening it up. 

The only time my writing room is clean and everything is neat and organized is when I have finished one project and have nothing on the go and not a single scrap of an idea or the tiniest morsel of a story in my head.  That is the only time my writing room looks like anything approaching decent.

Anyway, we have a workman in the house, so I cloistered Molly in my room.  I gave her a large “beef chew” to chew on.  It will be gone within an hour or two. 

You know, I never really stopped to consider what the “beef chew” was made of until a couple of Christmases ago.  I can’t remember whether it was Becky or Emily that dropped the beef-chew-bomb, but which ever one it was, the other one confirmed.  At first I didn’t believe them with their laughing faces, but as I thought about it, I realized they were right.  Especially if you actually look at the hacked off thing closely.  It definitely is.  Our dogs go through quite a few of them, so I’ve been privy to a lot of different sections of the “beef chew” and there are certain ones that it is very clear what part of the bull p___s it is.  Very.

I wonder if the pet store owners have a good old laugh about it, lying in bed with their spouses. 

Some of the “beef chews are wrapped in plastic, but some are not.  I prefer to buy whatever I can without plastic, because of the effects on the environment, but I have to say, when I grab several of these babies in my hands, if I allow my mind to go there, I do feel a little bit odd.  I slap those dead bull p____s on the counter and try to think about how happy my dogs will be. 

Well, enough of that, what I started to say, before I got sidetracked, was, I gave Molly a beef chew to keep her content and distracted until the workman leaves, but my God do these things stink!  I’ve got the window open wide.  It’s a rather cold day, but having the window shut is just not an option because my room is full of the stench.  It’s sort of like a meaty fart smell.  I don’t particularly like it. 

I guess, now that I think on that last sentence that most people aren’t jumping up and down right now, saying, “Let me at it.  Whooeee!  Meaty fart smell, bring it on!’

Okay, I really better go.  This is not what I would call one of my more admirably tasteful blogs.  Better leave now, go pound away at my manuscript before I get off on any other undesirable topics. 

Heh...heh...As I wrote that sentence a bunch of undesirable topics went prancing through my mind. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, June 10, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

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