The last time William appeared here, he had sat on the keyboard and turned the working title into gobbledygook.
I suppose tonight’s activity is progress.
Yes, I know it’s progress. Because a year ago at this time, his hobby was lying across my lap and biting my fingers. Lunge-chomp-lunge-chomp. Tonight he’s helping.
But Just for the Hell of it Writers meets tomorrow morning, and my promise (to myself) to finish my critique chapter early and, for once, get to bed at a reasonable hour is vaporizing even as I type.
Especially since I took a half-hour out of the evening to prepare this post. That’s okay. It was necessary. I needed a break.
I also needed to memorialize this event so in a couple of years I can look back and say, Wasn’t that darling of him?
Because it’ll be a couple of years before I think so.
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Note: That isn’t dust. We have a super-duper fancy two-toned gray-and-black keyboard.
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Update: Two hours later: I heard growling and turned to find William and Ernest arguing over a cricket. Ernest grabbed it and shot up the stairs. I grabbed a paper towel and ran after him, hissing, “Spititoutspititoutspititout.” At the first landing, after some indecision, he let it go. The cricket is no more. David was asleep but probably isn’t now.
Kathy Waller 