It was early morning when Michelle sat at
her desk, propped her cordless phone onto the bookshelf next to her and dropped
her mobile two shelves below and carefully placed her hot chocolate on the
coaster on the shelf between them.
The computer hummed, ready for her to type…
to edit… to delve into the other world of her being the writer, instead of the
person everyone knew.
Her brain switched into the other mode she
knew so well as she slid into her business-style chair and turned it around – away
from the door – and began to type.
Her hands sped across the keyboard, as the
world she had created within her mind expanded, fleshed out, became her own,
and the characters within her world ran, stabbed, killed, ate, drank and made
love to each other in such a way she felt as though they were her own friends…
and she had a private little camera crew showing of their lives.
Once in a while, she’d turn and take a long
gulp from her sweet hot chocolate and
read over what she’d written, correcting her spelling, groaning over how she
didn’t write this or that better (and fixing those things up as she place the
mug between her arms and typing quickly; allowing the warmth of the mug to touch
her arms before she’d pick it up again and keep on reading).
Before she knew it, Michelle had finished her
few chapters – her 3,000 word limit had been reached – and she had long drunk
her hot steaming mug. It was time for a
shower.
She scrubbed the chilliness that had settled
into her pores, hoping the stinging heat of the water would warm her at some
point. Steam rose around her, worming
into her sinus’, wetting her hair, and sending temporary shivers up her spine.
She had been still too long and the cold of
the day had set into her joints. She
hated this, but she needed to get herself warm for the next part of her day.
Work.
This was another kind of work that people
knew she did but didn’t think she took seriously. She worked the craft markets and so worked on
craft pieces for hours on end… sitting still at her back door at a craft
table. Her hands always moving, her mind
moving, but her body staying completely still – really frustrating – but what
she got finished was great!
After finished blow-drying her hair,
brushing its frizziness, she snapped on her watch, blew her nose on a tissue
before throwing it away and then pulled on her ugg-boots and turned off the
bathroom light and walked back into the office to collect everything she needed
to go downstairs. Grabbing the camera –
in its snood – the cordless phone, and mobile phone and looping her fingers
through the handle of the empty mug, she checked the computer, to make sure it
was switched off, and then turned and walked out the door, shimmied past the
hall table and down the steep stairs to the living room.
It was freezing down here… but she was
dressed warmly in her paint-covered track pants and jumper. After putting down the empty mug in the
kitchen, she walked to the stereo system, push the button ‘Video’ for the
turntable and flipped through her collection to choose the music for the
afternoon. This would keep her from getting
cold and make sure she was active every few minutes. The first album of Santana’s ‘Moonflower’ was
selected and she put on the second album side 2 on… sweet! Drum beats started and she boogied her way
around the living room as she picked up the remote and upped the volume, loving
how this music got her moving every time!
Bopping her head, she opened the fridge, grabbed one of the covered
paint plates and put it onto the paint-covered denim mini-skirt she used as a
rag for her brushes. Then, she danced
out to the cheap clothes horse where a few picture frames were set out drying,
chose one, boogied backed to her craft table, slipped into her bright green swivel
chair, pulled back the plastic, grabbed the bottle of flow medium and got the
paint working – making it thinner without losing consistency – and then grabbed
a paintbrush and began working on painting a fine, dainty vine around the
picture frame…
Three hours passed and Michelle had changed the vinyl four times, organised a drink for herself, grabbed something to eat, waited for two coat hangers to dry, painted six sprung pegs, five dolly pegs and finished up one picture frame… yep, a lot of had happened.
Most of all, the afternoon had begun to turn
into night… the shadows had begun to turn dark across the backyard and the
house was becoming darker.
It was time for dinner – at 4pm. Michelle decided pizza would be perfect.
She pulled out a large metal bowl,
self-raising flour, dry yeast, olive oil and a ¼ cup of hot water. She sifted the flour, put in a teaspoon of
yeast, about a tablespoon of olive oil and put in the hot water then grabbed
the wooden palette from next to the stove where the other utensils were stored
in a container and she mixed it all together carefully, folding it all, not
letting the air out… until it was a ball of soft, dough. She placed a t-towel over it and set her iPod
for an hour. Then she got to work,
chopping up her favourite things for pizza:
cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, olives, capsicums, garlic… all the good
stuff! Cut a piece of baking paper,
sprinkled some flour on it and put on the oven.
Before long, the timer went off, she rolled out the dough, put on the
ingredients and put it into the oven for 20 minutes!
Bell rang!
Michelle opened the door, heat rolls out invitingly with the aroma of pizza!
“Oh!
Yummo! Dinner!” she pushed the
slide under it, took it to the cutting board, cut it into quarters, served it
up and bit into the first slice before even sitting down at the table!
