I had a perfectly balanced day planned-- an early morning stop at my favorite sacred space, followed by a cup of Earl Grey with bergamont, a sensible multi-grain scone (not chocolate chip), and some Anne Lamott to feed the mind and spirit. And absolutely no more than ten minutes on email. Swear!
Then on to the day's writing project, a piece in desperate need of resuscitation and revision. In the throes of deep rigormortis, if the truth be told of it. Partner was sleeping off a a long hospital shift, and rapscallion cats were entwined and down for the count.
Oh, baby, I had it made in the shade.
Enter the jackhammers.
An entire marching brigade of them outside my window in the hands what appeared to be three or twelve shouting, spitting, snorting, hawking, potty-mouthed gentlemen who spent the next few hours breaking up our neighbor's tile floor.
I think I might have survived the ear-rattling whirring, buzzing and blasting of their work. It really was the constant talking that nearly drove me to rush over and take a jackhammer to my own head. Put the poor girl out of her misery! Was there not a single introvert in the bunch?
Which led me to consider later, after throwing up my hands and going to the gym, what it might be like to live in an entire community of introverts, who most always would use their inside voices.
I found this short essay from a fun site called The Introvertz Coach. It's entitled "A Planned Community -- for Introverts!" Check it out! Call it Nirvana, Shangrila, or ecstasy. Just be sure and call me.
In the meantime, I'm back to work on my manuscript tomorrow, but earlier, way, way earlier. Off to bed. I'm up at 4:30!
Don't forget we have our first Milestone Mondays feature coming up! We'd love to post your news.