“Marvin, do you have to bother that poor dog every night?”
“Well, if he isn’t going to learn in one night then I must continue the lesson until he learns.”
“That is awful, Marvin. The only thing you are doing is traumatizing that poor dog. He isn’t smart enough to learn your lesson without being told what he is supposed to be learning.”
“Honestly, Betsy. If he can’t tell that when I put my tail up, I am going to spray him again, like the night before and the night before that, then he gets sprayed, end of story.”
“Whatever Marvin. I just don’t think that poor dog should have to go through your schooling every single night.”
She has no idea what this guy is like. Droopy ears, slobber down his chin, poop stuck to the fur near his butt…He is gross and needs multiple baths. If his owners don’t start smartening up and trying to explain the reason for my lessons, then they are just as dumb as he is. Leave him be…Ha! How can I when I get so much joy out of the look in his eyes? (199 words)
We knew mom had gotten into the apartment the minute we saw our mural. All the work we had done, now covered by her image and her famous saying. Did she ever want us to grow up or move on? Billy and I decided after we graduated college that it was time to find our own place. Being twins didn’t mean we had to live together, it was just how life went. Mom was a wreck though. She cried about losing her boys and what would we do if we needed her? Would we have time to make good meals and clean up after ourselves? When it came down to it she wanted her twins to remain toddlers, listening to their mommy with awe and fascination again. Poor mom, she must be really upset to come paint herself on our wall!
Miller walked around aimlessly, searching for the key, the key that would unlock the truth. He was tired of the darkness, tired of the feeling of empty sockets where his eyes once were. Where in this darkness was the tissue, the tissue that held the DNA to rebuild his eyes, make him a member of the “seeing” world? No one had an explanation, maybe that is why Miller felt he had to keep searching. In the darkness, Miller continued, listening to the familiar creak and groan of the old floorboards in his now dark home.
Are you a perfectionist or can you take a step back and accept less than perfect?It totally depends on what I am doing. If it is something that should be done perfectly to say it is complete, then I have to stick with it. If it is something I am trying and making a real good attempt but just can’t seem to get there, then I can accept less than perfect. My mother taught me that if you are going to do something do it well or don’t do it at all. I agree that not trying to get it as close to perfect as possible can be considered wasting your time.
How often do you save online articles to your favourites list for reading ‘later’ and more importantly when do you then read them – as in when is your ‘later?’?I save online articles every so often but I don’t think I ever go back to them. Once in a while I will look through my favorites or my bookmarks and check the list out. It is fun to sometimes find something that I had forgotten about. It isn’t that I don’t have an interest to go back, I just don’t have enough time in my life to do what I want and go back to stuff that already happened.
When was the last time that you actively involved yourself in doing absolutely nothing for an hour and what did you do in that hour of nothing?I think it was maybe two weeks ago or so that I decided to go take a nap. For me, that is doing nothing. Don’t get me wrong, some days I fall asleep while trying to get my blog going and what-not but for the most part “doing nothing” means not being productive in one way or another.
When was the last time that you were engaged in a difficult conversation and if you can ‘what was it and how did you do?’I find myself to be engaged in difficult conversations often because I can’t let things just stay open-ended and vague. For instance, someone told me that someone we all know had COVID but didn’t tell anyone! So, I couldn’t “not tell anyone” so I told David. It was a hard decision to find the right time to talk about it because COVID is serious and we take it seriously. So, I said what I had to say and then let it sink in before talking about it further. After losing so much in the past few years I just don’t have time in my life to NOT have the difficult conversations.
Dominic bowed his head to hide his face. He didn’t want his mug showing up all over the news stations. If his parents found out he was one of the protestors they would never let him live it down. They were not the type to engage in such foolery. But Dominic knew, deep down, that fighting, for what you believe is right, is not foolery; foolery is looking the other way at something that is wrong. This was going to be a night like no other. Dominic planned on watching the looters, finding out their tricks and finding out where they kept all the merchandise they stole. He wanted to help bring these people down but watching and waiting seemed so passive. He strolled through the crowded streets just watching and waiting for it all to begin.
Barb, did I tell you about yesterday afternoon and the delivery I received?
No, why? What happened?
Well, the day started like any other day. I got a hilarious email from my sister letting me know that I was going to receive a secret package that had to do with that sex party she hosted.
Oh, God! I forgot about that evening! Where was I that I couldn’t go?
I think you went to your parent’s house.
Oh, yeah, yeah. Okay so what happened.
Well, a package did come in the mail but it was really disappointing. All I had ordered was a “how-to” book on buying sex toys. I guess that night I thought a book like that might be engaging but it was really a waste of money.
Well, I could’ve told you that! When you go to one of those parties you need to buy merchandise, not reading material!
Thanks to Di from pensitivity101 for helping to keep #writephoto up and running. Peace to her and to Sue! Enjoy and write on! :
She walked quickly, the leaves noisy under her sneakers. The trail was turning up ahead and she didn’t understand why this part of the path looked so unfamiliar. Where were the other runners? She started to feel some unease. Was someone following her? Was someone watching her from behind the autumn trees. Her pace was quickening in conjunction with her heart rate. She tried to convince herself that she was causing the anxiety, that her mind was doing all the manipulating. But the feeling was too real. She glanced down at her phone. No service. What now? She no longer felt safe, she felt very afraid. Her slow jog turned into run when her mind started thinking about the serial killers who did these things on purpose.