most recent interruption: ‘that boy called me tooth butt!’ [seriously … i didn’t even know ‘tooth butt’ was a thing].
i thought i might be able to respond to student drafts while my daughter plays.
the room is full of incessant shrieking and shouts of ‘MOOOMMM!’ that so almost-could-be-my-kid that my eyes have lifted from my screen to scan the room at least 5 times since i began composing this sentence.
the only project i can even attempt: a copy/paste of an already-composed unit 3 schedule into my course website – a job i will need to look over in a quieter place before publishing. does this even count as writing activity?
happy-birthday-to-you!s, do-you-have-the-wifi-password?s, mom-look-at-this!s, a you-come-here-often-[wink, wink], mildly panicked games of ‘where’s my kid?’ when her curly head isn’t spotted in my first quick scene sweep.
[did i mention the shrieking?]
typing feels tense and terse. a rush of ‘how many letters can i tap out before i need to break away.’ key-clicks only barely audible when i listen intently for them, but i don’t dare shift focus for too long. and 10 second bursts of attention are not enough to sustain reflection/thought/anything.
and they only serve cups of light roast coffee here, a subtly flavored and steamy brown-ish water, complete with a mouthful of grounds laying in wait for an unsuspecting final gulp [or chocolate-raspberry or decaf].
i am in writing hell.
materials are irrelevant.