While the Tea Kettle Boils

While the tea kettle boils, I decide whether I should pick today to start drinking the herbal caffeine free tea my loving wife picked up with the groceries this week. She says she's not getting any sleep with all my tossing and turning. She blames it on too much caffeine, but I blame it on writer's block.

The kettle whistles a merry tune while I'm deciding on what kind of tea I want. Decisions, decisions. I pull a teabag out of the box of orange pekoe. I save the herbal tea until my wife is around, and I have no choice.

I sit in my computer chair and stare at the blank page in the new Word program. I close my eyes, lean back and reminisce about my old electric Underwood typewriter. There was nothing so satisfying as watching my story evolve as the paper made its way over the roller. Ah, those were the good old days. The distinct tap, tap, tap of the keys, and then the resounding dingggg of the bell as the carriage comes to a halt at the end of a line, then the kerchunk when I press the key to return the carriage.

 Aaaah, those where the days, when I couldn't wait to get out of bed to start writing, and the memorable days when I finished entire chapters. A sudden thought occurs to me. What if I got behind the typewriter again? Maybe I should dig it out of the storage closet in the basement, and take a shot at writing something, maybe recapture those heady euphoric days of productivity.

The End

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