Updated: Mar 9
A FUNNY BUT PRETTY SERIOUS READ #FunnySeriousRead
Terri is a good friend, let alone to say my best friend. However, I'm not planning on getting rid of her any time soon. The title Killing Your Best Friend came to me while I was working on the final chapters. My family expressed contradictory feelings toward it - they liked it, but they were also worried about any possible misconceptions. Being born stubborn and - let's hope - within good reason, I made up my mind with the first-come-first-serve rule. Following the logical chain of events and given the fact that the title was coined at the very end, we are unlikely to define it as predetermined.
So, Terri called me a few days ago and fired right up, "You need to write an article for your site. I got an alert - there is no activity."
"I have a freelancer's block," I replied jauntily.
"What? What do you have? A writer block?"
"No," I objected right away. "Not that one for sure. I'm pretty busy with my new project, that's why I cannot write anything for my site."
"Why can't you? " Terri can be pushy, but it never hurts. This is one of her unique - as my daughter would call it - quirks.
"I don't care much about articles now. Any free-of-family-duties hour I have, I use on my new project. I want to publish it in April of this year - not the next."
"I understand," she said, and I could tell she was slightly disappointed. Indeed, her voice, like in the famous Mary Poppins song, Spoonful of Sugar, never goes down, even when she is upset. I would like to acquire this useful skill someday too.
"Okay, okay. I will force myself to write. Today. For the first time in my life, I will force myself to write. An article," I promised her. And here we go, this mumble-jumble is below for you to judge.
Everything could be destroyed or created from such a prosaic thing as a cup of coffee in the morning.
Two hours of private time with my laptop and a coffee pot was more than enough for my husband.
"Why are you drinking coffee today, not tea?"
"I always drink coffee, and not only in the mornings," I answered, trying to extinguish my big surprise. After so many years together, he's still confused about me?
"Yesterday, you were drinking tea!"
And why is this so important to him? I try to figure it out."And?"
"Are you going to stare into your computer again?" he grumbled.
He might be right. He needs some time too, I thought and flipped my laptop shut. "So, what are your plans for today?" I wondered.
"So you deliberately ignore my question," he said, stressing on deliberately.
"What was your question?"
"Why are you drinking coffee today, and yesterday you drank tea?"
I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. Feeling no need to explain, I tried anyway: "Yesterday was cool but sunny. I like to catch some rays of sun in my glass mug. The tea looks pretty in the morning sunlight."
"Wow, you are so complicated!" His tone let me know that that wasn't a compliment.
"Okay," I agreed and sipped out of my mug.
As he poked his finger at his i-pad, I waited patiently. He is less lucky with high-speed internet. It always works slower for him than for me. In a third of a minute, I can hear his patience collapse: "Why am I paying for high-speed internet?!"
"I hate computers!"
My hand crawled under the lined notepad and then under the napkin to find somewhere in the middle a hidden cookie. Stress-eating. I could not wait any longer. Crunch. A broken piece.
"I booked the camping trip for March, but we might not go," he said. "I doubt the weather will be good."
I held a piece of cookie, hesitating to reveal such a domestic crime. It was still under the napkin, and I wanted it badly. "The weather will be good," I snapped.
"How do you know?"
"I don't. But I don't doubt the weather will be good." And then I lost my patience. "Why the heck did you book the trip if you are already ready to cancel it?"
He didn't know what to say. He stared, and I needed to maintain this freaking eye contact when life could be more productive than that.
"I'm not going to sit in the rain!" He believed his argument was strong.
I rolled my eyes. I just want my cookie! "I don't mind the rain. It's kind of romantic when it drums on the roof, and satisfying," I said.
"Only you could find the rain beating against a metal roof satisfying!" he countered angrily.
Since my laptop was flipped closed, I turned my head to the microwave.
"What is so important there?" he nagged again.
I didn't answer. I knew as soon as I would say "time", I will create another question.
"That's very rude - when somebody talks to you, and you just don't care.
"I can hear you. I don't need to look into your eyes the entire time you are talking," I explained, eager for him to find something to do besides wasting my time.
"How can you remember what I said if you were not paying attention to it?"
Just get over it. Just shut up. Just go somewhere else. Go use the bathroom or something.
"Oh, I will remember. And I could repeat word by word tomorrow what you said today." I could not wait any longer. "She's behind you!"
"Who?" he turned his head.
His eyes met mine again. "What are you talking about?"
I let the sugar cookie dissolve in my mouth. The satisfying grimace displayed on my face.
"Are you going to answer?" he insisted. Such a party-pooper, I noted silently. It's almost gone. A little bit more. Oh my gosh, it was so good. I can speak now.
"Ida Harrida," I said in a terrifying voice as I thought of the main character in my new book. "She's behind you, and now, leave me alone."