Everyday Canvas

Free Flow – Read at your own risk!

Write about anything or everything that crosses your mind. This is a free-form exercise, you cannot go wrong. Be petty, critical, whining, excited, worried, adventurous, or happy. Be whatever or however you are at this moment.

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Somehow, my nights have become more eventful. Despite the blood thinner I take religiously, I woke up again after midnight with a pain in my right leg and a sore spot on top of my right foot. This happens when I am horizontal rather than vertical, due to poor circulation. I hobbled around the bedroom a bit to ease it up, then rubbed the sore spot with arnica gel and put on thick socks and the bottom of my thickest sweat suit. By this time, the pain was only a discomfort. When I woke up, I was perfectly fine.

Then, early at pre-dawn, when I went to the bathroom, I let out a shriek as soon as I flipped up the light switch. The way a salamander, a rather hefty one, zipped in front of me had startled me, but my shriek was even more startling to the hubby. I immediately said, “Go back to sleep. It’s only a salamander.” He began complaining. “How did it get in? We have no holes in the house. Blah, blah, blah…” I didn’t answer, and soon enough he fell back to sleep. Now, I am worrying about the welfare of the salamander. It’ll die somewhere in the house. Salamanders are not for the inside of dwellings. I like salamanders just fine. Quite a few of them reside in our enclosed porch and do a great job of cleaning out the place from tiny insects that squeeze through the mesh.

When I went back to bed again, the excitement of the night brought to my mind this old handyman who once took out a tree stump from the backyard. He is a good worker, but he started paying unwanted attention to me, or rather to my writing, so we didn’t call him again. The thing was he had remarked that women took any excuse even writing to not face life. Grrr!

Yesterday, I saw him painting the neighbor’s house, the side of it that looks toward our house. The guy waved at me. I didn’t wave back, but out of courtesy, I flickered a smile. I don’t want that beetlehead in my hair, handing out his putrid advice.

No beetlehead can make me stop writing or do anything else that I like to do. I shall defend the honor of my likes, if not with a sword, but with my fists like a boxer who claims the rink for herself, as this is my rink and my life. Anyone who dares to step on it with a scorn will be knocked out in a bout with both my left and right fists on him and I will be glad to turn him into mush.

I am laughing right now at my own writing. Who’d think that inside me I had gotten so angry at this poor guy! What really happened was he was talking to us about this or that, and he told us it would be a good idea to have a few hobbies as in old age people get bored doing nothing and wither. He probably was directing his advice to my husband, come to think of it. Hubby said something like, “My wife has a lot of those. She writes mostly.” Then the guy gave me that stinking piece of advice. The way I looked at the guy then even made my hubby tremble with fear, which is what my husband said, and he said he’d never call him again.

Truth is, I’d call him again. He’s just a worker and a good one at that. I don’t mind what anyone says. All my life I heard such stuff, even from the grownups when I was a child. “Do something that’s important.” Writing isn’t important? My foot!

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About ten plus minutes of writing from my not too exciting life, this is. Hehehe!