The weekend. Yes.

I slept until 8, and it was glorious. My dog didn’t think so.

And now I’m at a cafe in Oak Park waiting for Mary Anne to get here. I live ten miles away and had to go to the library before I came, but I still made it here first. Mary Anne lives two houses down the street from this place.

But there’s a baby having a FIT here, so I’m not sure either of us are getting anything done anytime soon. Oh, two babies. Crap. Is this cafe a mommy-cafe?

And me without a toddler. Mary Anne had better bring both her kids if we’re going to keep up.

But that is why science has given us earphones and iTunes.

I said on Facebook yesterday that I was blocking out a conversation at a nearby table during my lunch and a couple of people said I should eavesdrop, that there was value in listening in on bonus conversations like that.

People, I eavesdrop. No writer worth her salt (as they say) (I think) doesn’t listen in on conversation, or people watch and make up stories that fit a situation. I do that. But sometimes conversations? In real life? Are boring as hell.

Which is why we read in the first place.

If you were all scintillating to listen in on, I’d never get any writing done.

Mary Anne is here now and talking to me about food. Also, she’s reading my book on her computer while I’m sitting across from her. OK, a little weird.

By Published On: January 30, 2010Categories: Life, The Day I Died, Writing