Imagine what I’d be like if I wasn’t working. 649! Imagine The Freedom!
Picture it: a five star hotel in the Caribbean or the Mediterranian, armed guards in the lobby (natch), a balcony overlooking the beach drenched in morning sunlight, a brand new desktop (laptops blow) with high speed internet; back from a morning swim, I begin my day of blogging; before long a waiter knocks on the door with crepes, hot coffee and cold orange juice…
Swap that vision out for a similar blogging cave set up in a sunroom with a central fireplace in my chalet overlooking some ski resort, and back to the beach again, as boredom requires. A variety of hearty stews in the winter instead of pancakes.
* * *
Meanwhile I sit here in my little box suffused with the artificial glare of strip lighting, daydreaming about Wisconcin Democrats. It’s a week away from spring and -12C outside, and expected to get colder. My wife and I are having takeout pho tonight, which we’ll eat straight out of the styrofoam. We’re still mourning the death of our beloved pet two weeks ago. Life is a real kick in the pants some days.
Sorry to be such a downer. Speaking of which, there’s an apocryphal legend that Ernest Hemingway wrote the shortest, saddest short story of all time, just six words, to win a bet that he couldn’t do it. It implies all of the elements you’d want in a full length story, from beginning-middle-end development, to back story, to pathos. It’s called “Baby Shoes”:
For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.
Oh cheer up. It’s not like your cat died.