I was at the amazing Yale New Haven Hospital (I’m fine; it was for a research study, not because I needed any medical treatment) the other day, where there’s a substantial cancer ward, so I brought a bunch of chemo caps with me to donate. Here’s Jazz doing her Vanna White impression while I was taking a picture of the caps.
I’ve been having trouble concentrating on my work recently. Just the usual distractions of life. Like Todd sitting as close as he can get to my mouse hand (I’m a lefty mouser):
I actually had to roll my chair back about a foot in order to be able to take that picture. Todd’s sitting about 1″ from my wrist, and he can sit like that for hours. Usually, he only does it when it’s time for lunch, but “time for lunch” can last from ten minutes after breakfast until actual lunch time. (Of course, I sometimes feel that way myself.)
Sometimes, he’ll take a different tack, and stare at me from between my keyboard and monitor. Keep in mind that Todd weighs somewhere around 16 pounds, and it’s not because he’s fat. Look at his feet, checking out the function keys at the top of the keyboard. Every time he wiggles, I end up with something funky happening on my monitor. One of the last times he played with my keyboard, the display changed from landscape to portrait. Have you ever tried working with a mouse when it was working 90 degrees off from normal? I had to turn my monitor on its side in order to get to the control panel and reset the screen to landscape mode!
It’s REALLY hard to concentrate on what my characters are saying and thinking and doing when someone’s staring at me like that. But it got me to thinking that I really need to take a lesson from my cats. Whatever they do, they do with total focus. If Todd were writing a story, he wouldn’t let a little staring stop him. I need to channel my inner cat while I’m finishing up the second draft of Helen Binney #3.