Writing Somewhere Else

It's a sultry night in Chicago.  The storm that was supposed to come missed us.  Even so, it's supposed to get cooler by tomorrow.  Not that its terribly hot for August.

I have spent the whole time here working on my manuscript.  I still got interruptions though all by phone.  And now toward the end of my stay, they have increased in number.

As soon as I finish this, I'm going back to it.  The nice thing about working on a laptop is that I can move my location to give myself change.  I like working in the living room where a breeze comes in off the porch and I can watch the pair of mourning doves go from the tree out front to the black iron railing on the porch.  I can see lights from the apartments across the street and hear the foot traffic down below.

When I work on the couch in the dining room, I have more room for my papers, but the couch is old and saggy and leaves me feeling sore.  It feels more closed off from the outside world.  In the winter it feels snuggier, but in the summer stuffier.  But once I get going on my work, I lose touch with where I am anyway. The only way I know time is passing is the bird clocks chirps on the hour with a different bird.

It's a luxury to be able to have this week to work like this.  Time to get back to it.