Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Serendipity Writing #103

Always have a clean work space. - Or maybe this post should be titled Housework Can Kill You.

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Somebody left a laptop plugged in with laptop hiding and cord exposed. I rounded the table to pick up something before sweeping, and...boom. One fractured nose, black eye, and a few gashes and cuts later...I'm a bloody mess.
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As for my own writing space, I still can't seem to write without the accoutrements. Fresh flowers, if possible, some votives if not bigger candles, music or a movie that fits the mood. Anyone else like that? One thing that sets me off is bad lighting - if a bulb is burned out, if there's too much sun coming through the blinds. And I think back to 'working for the man', other jobs, and I remember how important certain things were at that time as well. Nobody else would have expected me to do good work with someone yelling at me or making demands while I was working on a project that had nothing to do with them. Other employers wouldn't have asked me to tolerate poor climate controls. They would have all given me a break every couple of hours. So why should working for myself be any different?
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It shouldn't, IMO. That's why once the blood stopped spewing and I could get my bearings, I hopped back into my chair and finished something I was working on. Broken nose - no problem. I don't type with my nose. Cuts and scrapes, whether stitches or not, I can still work. The bills still have to be paid, and others depend upon me to complete projects I've promised them.
Still. I didn't like any of my other jobs as well as I do this one, so I'd probably show up whether I got paid or not. Come to think of it, I HAVE - lol.
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More next time. Have a good rest of the week, folks.
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~ Sunny Lyn



At 8:17 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ouch! I've got an impressive bruise on my hip where I um, KEEP, running into the corner of a table. Always hurrying, me. But that's nothing compared to this. Hugs.

At 9:09 AM, Blogger Lyn Cash said...

Isn't it gross? The hurrying is what gets me into trouble, too.

hugs back atcha...


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