The phone rang and my eyes shot open. I had been sitting in the living room attempting to motivate myself to write, yet failing miserably by falling asleep in the process. Typically when someone calls our landline it is a telemarketer that never leaves a message. However, the faint murmuring echoing from the kitchen let me know that there was life this time. After roughly a minute the message ended, only for the phone to begin ringing again. Slightly agitated, and knowing full well that it was probably no one, I rose to my feet and made my way into the kitchen. After three processions of ringing, the answering machine triggered. I stood next to it and waited with mild impatience.
Low and behold, and to no ones’ surprise, it was dead air on the other line. I let out a sigh and looked down at Tank, who was locked away in his kennel as punishment for eating a piece of taco bake from the garbage. I should have probably pushed it down further into the bag when I threw it out, knowing his tendency to dig around in the trash. If I was a dog I would have done the same I guess. I rolled my eyes and unlatched his kennel door, to which he sprang out and proceeded to run about in the dining room; squeaking his stuffed duck lodged in his mouth. I sluggishly walked back into the living room; the plastic sound of squeaks following me in toe.
It was a surprisingly beautiful day out, despite having zero urge to go out and enjoy it. I cracked the blinds open slightly and sat back down on the sofa; propping my laptop on to my knees. The empty Word document that I had attempted to fix prior to dozing off was staring back at me. I began to lightly tap my fingernails on to the keyboard, typing out the first words that popped into my head.
‘Butternut squash, kumquat, trichotillomania, exacerbated, dermatitis…’
I leaned my head back against the sofa cushion and watched the ceiling fan spin. I don’t know why it is so difficult at times to figure out what to write about. I try to let myself wander, spreading out my thoughts without a second glance; though today I was in such a dense fog. With my mind still pacing back and forth, I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythm of the fan blades slice through the air.
One, two, three; One, two, three; One, two…
The abrupt high-pitched shrill of the kitchen phone broke the silence again, and at that moment I started to type.
‘The phone rang and my eyes shot open.’