Red Room Where the Writers Are

The fog lifted around noon and the grey mist gave rise to a pure blue sky that lifted the spirits and had me head for the clothes line. Feeling better after my fall, my energy was high and spirits were in fine fettle. How quickly one rebounds, how magnificent is the human body! The dog was in the vets since early morning undergoing an X-ray to his neck. It revealed that his discomfort is either genetic or due to an injury. I am relieved, ecstatic, he will survive, several packets of pills later and a verdict of a three week confinement should bring him back to his old bog-hopping self.  He comes home like a long lost soldier to the wars and snuggles up to me for comfort. Good old dog. We survived.

The window cleaner was supposed to come this morning. Matty seems like a decent fellow, has business cards in a silver card holder and looks like a surfer straight out of Malibu. But he called me on my mobile to say he was delayed. Fine, I said, I will leave the money with hubby, just go around the side of the house and you will find him in his office. I was on my way to the bank to get a draft for the painter and do some errands at the same time.

When I got home hubby said that the window cleaner did not show. Fine. I'll just go up to write. I have been attempting a piece for submission but each time I thought about it I got butterflies in my stomach and self doubt reared its ugly head. Each time I thought I have too many things to say and no form to shape it into. Each time I sat down, I scrawled words on a page without any meaning or coherence. This morning I felt the same way. I looked at the page like it was an enemy so I got up and went downstairs to make scones. I found this amazing new flour and so in no time the house smelled of fresh baking. At least I can do that, I thought and still no sign of the window cleaner.

I went back upstairs to my desk. I sat down. I told myself that I could do it. I said aloud, Mary, you can do this, just for god's sakes, for once believe in yourself. And then I started as if I were cutting into a raw piece of wood, my etching went slowly and I was careful, careful not to overlap and careful to stop and ponder my next cut. It began to form, as if by magic, I could see it, the way I wanted the words to look, the flow and the whole effect coming across as something that could eventually be possibly right, be the way I want it to be.

When I was done I sat back and decided to let it stew, to allow the words a chance to simmer and settle a little, not to stir or add anything else, yet. I stepped away. It was late afternoon by then and I decided to go for a walk with Missy. I told teenager that if the window cleaner came that I left the money on the coffee table for him and he was  to go ahead with the windows. I walked and cleared my head and when I got home prepared dinner of salad and the last of our crop of  the most wonderful potatoes in the whole of Ireland and  broccoli and I fried some mackerel. During dinner, said teenager announces that a guy called about the windows and, he continues as he cuts up a spud, I told him that you said to give him the money and for him to come back tomorrow.......................I roared, take those damn head phones out of your ears before I STRANGLE you. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!As Mother transforms into a wild hound baying across the bog land at dusk.