Thursday, September 15, 2005

Irony

My wife and the kids have gone to bed. I've settled down with my laptop, and iTunes is pumping Switchfoot's newest into my noggin ("You are golden / You are golden, child / You are golden / Don't let go / Don't let go tonight"). I have the laundry going so that I'll have clean underwear and towels tomorrow. My purpose is to sit down and do a nice stroke of work, a good little post, for my insomniac friend when she wakes up at 4 a.m. She'd like that, I think. I haven't written two sentences before I'm reclining next to my wife on an Antiguan beach, sipping beer, and watching elephants swim by.

7 comments:

alison said...

You are THE Insomniac's Friend! Happily she slept through the night. God knew. Thanks for even trying.

If ever you have a choice between the beach with your wife and writing for an insomniac, choose the beach.

Meg said...

You are a really lovely, evocative soul, Scott.

Jamie Dawn said...

Were you high when you wrote this?

Scott said...

Alison and Meg, my pleasure and thank you.

Jamie, no. Are you taking too many pain meds? : )

Jamie Dawn said...

I deserved that! No pain meds here. I don't like taking them. They make me feel a little tummy sick, so I am just taking Aleve or Tylenol.

Scott said...

Ah, Jamie - I'm just messin'. It does sound like I'm a little high. : )

Andy said...

Mmm...sounds nice.