In which I go slightly mad, but only for a moment
I am trying to finish a book at the moment. The deadline was moved, which in turn increased my daily word count significantly. It is sending me slightly mad. Although, it could be the significant increase in the number of chocolate-coated coffee beans I am eating which is sending me mad.
Anyway. Yesterday I was in the library, writing while listening to Haydn’s Piano Sonata in C. My notebook caught my eye. The frisky piano combined with the sight of the old-fashioned typewriter…
…which combined with the satisfying clickety-clack of my immaculately Chanel Paradoxal-ed fingers on my keyboard…
…which combined with my already slightly-mad state. All of a sudden, I temporarily believed that I had actually become Jessica Fletcher. It was only for a moment, but … well … it still happened.
What jolted me from my temporary reincarnation was the arrival of a comment on the blog post below. The news was huge. Here it is, at 6:50…
I was overjoyed, partly for the simple reason that it was about Dolly Parton, aka The Only Woman On Earth Who Can Truly Work a Spatula Nail, but also because it suggested that that she too has little imaginative flights of fancy to do with her nails when she’s working hard. Clackety clack, clickety click, TING! The image of a glamorous secretary’s hands on a keyboard is up there that of a music goddess’ hands around a mic. And the feeling of satisfaction derived from clicking lacquered nails while thinking is second to none.
In Dolly all three are are combined majestically.
I don’t feel so mad now. Thank you, Dolly.
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