I’m still here. Been busy as a bee. And I need your help. But before we get to that… we have to digress a bit.
<Digression Alert: But why are bees always represented as being busy? Why not busy as an ant? Have you ever seen an ant lying around goofing off? No, right? But bees get all the credit for being busy, when, in fact, all they do is buzz around, pollinating flowers. Well, I guess they give us honey for my toasted English muffins. And of course, the thought that if we get rid of the bees, we’d have only twenty years to live before we die of starvation and cannibalism gives us pause.>
I know, you love those Digression Alerts! Nobody else alerts you like SloWord does. How absolutely darling we are here at SloWord.
But now folks, we have to tell you why we’ve been busy. Busier than a hibernating bear. Busier than a Punjabi Pasta. Busier than a Bollywood dream sequence. Busier than… you get the idea, right? I’ve been busy.
Why have I been busy?
Let’s consider the facts.
- I wake up at the crack of dawn.
- I undergo the usual morning ablutions plus additional special ceremonies to maintain the facade.
- I climb up and down flights of stairs carrying a bag.
- I catch commuter trains by the skin of my teeth, throwing them this way and that. ( Yes. I’m kidding. )
- I climb up and down steep, dangerous stairs among a crowd of other death marchers.
- I walk 12.785647 minutes to work.
- I drag a wheeled bag behind me as I cross streets, dodge other pedestrians.
- I undergo severe stress testing all day surviving on a single cup of dark roast coffee.
- I walk 12.785647 minutes to the station.
- I climb the steepest, narrowest stairs to the train platform.
- I ride home on the train.
- I stare at the ceiling for 3.986643 hours
- I repeat steps 1-10 the next day.
- I teach for 4.4637 hours on Saturday afternoons.
- I stare at chores for 12.5857 hours on Sunday.
- I go back to step 1.
Notice, what’s missing from that list?
Exactly!
No writing time. No time for you. No time for pandering to the polity that politely passes-up the possible pleasure of perusing posts such as this.
In the interest of fairness and full disclosure I should mention that I have exaggerated a bit. It doesn’t actually take 12.785647 to walk between the station and work. It’s only 11.9863 minutes.
I’m hoping that my disarming honesty will charm you into wastin… I mean, indulging me a little.
For I have an announcement to make. Very soon now, you will be able to look for this on Amazon.
Yes. True fact! I cannot tell a lie. I wrote a play and it will be available on Amazon as an e-book very soon.
How soon, you ask? Soon. As soon as I can read each stage direction and edit and re-edit for the 45th time.
What’s it about?
Ok. This is how it goes.
Alex and Phyllis are estranged, middle-aged couple, who have never divorced. He moved away to the other end of the country. Ten years have gone by. They have two children. Mark is now married. Andrea is engaged and is planning her wedding. Phyllis calls Alex to say she is coming to visit him. The curtain goes up as he prepares for her arrival. What happens next? Do they resolve their differences?
What do the kids think of all this? What about Linda, Alex’s agent?
And what happens at the end? You can help me decide. Vote below and tell me what you think happens when the curtain falls. Gives me your best guesses and wildest endings!
#ACoupleofChoices
I would never have guessed about the morning ablutions. Who knew!!
And it’s busy as a bee because of the balliterative beffect. Go covfefe that!
I think Phyllis is coming to tell Alex that she has cancer. And that she is going to die very very soon. She is going to check herself into a hospice right after she tells Alex to his face that she forgives him for never loving her. Then she discovers why, when Alex reluctantly introduces her to his partner, a handsome photographer. He insists that Phyllis stay for dinner and he cooks a stupendous meal. Plied with food and wine, Phyllis does the big reveal. Alex offers to photograph Phyllis and document her last days for posterity. She sheds a happy but heart broken tear as she dies in the hospice with Alex and Simon.
Did I get it right?
The SloMan, who for some reason unknown, has chosen to reply to your highly predictable, melodramatic and soppy version of events.
He shall relay to the playwright, his concern about your exposition. He is quite certain that the playwright’s obstinacy is matched only by his inconstancy. So really, anything can happen. That doesn’t mean it will.
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