Why I Am Not Getting Much Done
Several weeks ago I wrote about the challenge of working out of a home office. Today the challenge is even greater than normal because of a favor. A friend had to drop her children off so that she could attend to some business.
The influx of children has raised the terror alert to its highest level. In fact I would argue that I have already survived numerous terror attacks. Let’s use the shrieking as an example.
Why dear lord must little girls shriek. My ears are ringing and the neighborhood dogs and I are considering the benefits of heading for the hills. The incessant shrieking has shattered three plate glass windows and caused every car alarm within a three mile radius to go off.
But the boys are not about to be outdone by the girls. Oh no, they wouldn’t consider the advantages of building a clubhouse outside. Instead they have constructed a racetrack inside the house. Since they are too big for a simple oval track they have made sure that it runs around the entire house, including the little corner I call my office.
In between the races they have decided to engage in simple imaginary play. It is kind of nice to see them use their imaginations and not rely upon things that beep, whistle or tweet. They’re pretending to be superheroes and supervillains.
Apparently I am supposed to be one of them too. I am some kind of giant. I don’t know if I am good or bad, just that I am included. Did I mention that this involves being attacked with various objects and body parts.
Fake rays have blasted me. Pillows that are supposed to be some sort of device or something have been used to assault my person. And as mentioned body parts have been used. It seems that I have been struck by kryptonite hands, radioactive feet and a host of other items.
It also seems that telling the boys that I don’t want to play and that I am angry enough to spit blood is not a deterrent. Instead it is viewed as encouragement to continue.
Of course my clients may not accept any of this as a reason for why I want an extension. Perhaps a better excuse such as my dog ate my homework would suffice.
Excuse me, I was just attacked by the Joker and Batman. I think that Giant Man is going to respond. Back later.