Staring Out Of The Window, When The Phone Rings

This place is packed with distractions.

Like this ice edged purple sprout.

It is November, the latter part.
On this planet.
What of other planets?
I mis-type November, but only once, as Novelber.
Today is not for writing but for dragging rows of numbers around, making accounts.
The first frosts have visited; two mornings in a row, now comes rain, falling thickly, hypnotic.
Thoughts wander in this weather they go anywhere. (Always blame the weather.)
Numbers add up to a headache.
Still some apples hold on branches: last all winter through, sometimes, some types. They are best to see frosted: fruit and ice growing: crunchy, sweet, fantastic!
I’m supposed to be - but the phone keeps interrupting - nearly gets turned off -
It rings. A finger hovers to stamp out the noise: why is that number ringing?
Because it’s Wednesday. Not Tuesday.
If you know film terms, this is the dolly track zoom moment.
If not, the word ‘lurch’ will help.
I am supposed to be picking up Little Granddaughter from her nursery…
I apologise on the phone and in person. The child of course is blithe: the staff just giggle.
Ponderation centres, staring later from the car window, on how easy it is to drop out of time, on how disconcerting to return, how once in 1970 I was left at the Post Office, parked in an old hooded perambulator, and how I had lost count of the times I had been almost home and circled back to collect my own poor brood. But the first incident was most likely in the late 1990s. It was raining then too, I am sure of it.


Dixie@dcrelief said…
Gee, I hate that moments! Great post lady!!
Geo. said…
Well-targeted post. I too have a frequently flimsy relationship with time. It's a demanding dimension, and one meets the nicest people outside of it. You, for instance.
Cherdo said…
I kinda like your distractions.

Happy holidays!
Lisa Southard said…
Happy holidays and a big thank you for more lovely comments- of which I shall never tire :-)
Today I have time in submission, but it takes energy and I'm running low. Anything could happen tomorrow- which is the more charming aspect of time of course. One day I may even find out how to have a singular reply for each of you, since you do deserve that. xx
I like the French word for blurry: floue. It makes my hopeless sense of timing and memory sound prettier. :)

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

E, That Was Funny

Spring Is Ticking