The Things We Do To Write

It’s really amazing sometimes the lengths we go to in order to do the things we love.

Yesterday, I was making bread, and I had one of those “goldfish-brain” moments.  You know–when you do something so incredibly stupid you wonder just how big your brain really is anyway?  Well, the timer for the bread machine went off, and I opened the lid when two thoughts occurred to me: 1) the metal handle for the bread holder could very well be hot (real complicated, right?) and 2) But is it?  And, of course, there’s only one way to find out.  I touched it.  Needless to say, ouch.

Fast-forward two and a half hours: fingers still hurt but it was writing time.  So, the stubborn Norwegian side of me having won out, I soon found myself sitting at the keyboard with a washcloth full of ice cubes twist-tied  around my finger as I clumsily tried to type with the rest of my fingers and simultaneously tried to avoid getting entangled in the enormity of the washcloth.  And, you know what?  I actually wrote almost three pages like that.  It’s not much, but, all things considered, I was pretty pleased with myself.

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