Woke up 5:30 a.m. still dizzy-eyed but full of energy in my spirit. Wile my mind was already embracing a 100 km run to the post-final-version, the body was still in heavy-rock-mode.
Instinctive-psyche occasionally shouts sayings "Get up, get up! Time to write!" You are awake, kiddo sleeping. Wife sleeping. No noise around. Sun still down. Get up, get up! You are a Writer! Mind-drafting time is over!"
In doing so, turning my laptop on, I quickly solve the drafting-right-now vs. preparing-a-coffee problem. Cheers to Coffee, and so my body rests on the chair to finally transcend inspiration into words.
Indeed, time flies when you stick to your text. I was kicking-ass-typing when I heard my wife.
-Borges, you should blink more often. Your eyes are red! Oh... It is so dry this time in the year. We need that humidifier. When the baby comes, he will get the hardest time... It will be dry. Poor baby. (and some more...)
I just looked around to perceive the ambiance. - Yes sugar, humidifier, we are gonna get it soon.
The day had come to life. My wife was awake and I was happy as hell -Keep going, bro! Kido is sleeping! Blink, blink!
Deep into words, looking for synonyms, text-cuts, shortenings, blaming-removal, unnecessary-repetition, and concentrating on text reviewing I...
-Borges! Come on, Quick! Oh my God! Luca, what have you done? Borges, come fast! Please. Our sofa is going to get a poop cover if you don't come fast. Come on, bring me some floorcloth!
Wile saving and copy-pasting the text file somewhere else as a backup, my wife is fighting hard to keep the boy under acceptable control -Luca, stop doing that! How did you get poop in your hands? No, don't try to eat this! Borges!? Come on, what are you f$@$ doing? I can't do it. Oh... My belly. Poor baby.
I swear to you, I tried to move fast, taking control of the situation. I took my kiddo to the bathroom, and given the circumstances, I just decided to go for a bath with him. In doing so, I was trying to gain some time, and play a while with my kiddo. I get ready, he gets happy, clean and ready, so I get to finish that post and posteemit.
Hum... that is actually good, don't you think? A neologism to condensate "Post it on Steemit". Maybe this catches up one day. Let's see.
-Borges. Don't forget I need you to take me to the party-shop so I can check for the wrapping paper for the baby souvenirs. I also need to check on wrap ribbon. -Borges, have you had breakfast already? You did not eat? What are you doing?
Well, I had a hard time saying "working" because in my screen I had the pictures from this post here which I was so ferociously working on, an avalanche series against the Steemit voting-bots and...
-Borges, it is time! Luca has to go to school! You are damn late, honey. What are you doing? (As if I haven't said before. That is ok. Fine.) -Working.
I was decided not to leave without doing it right! -That is my time. The text is ready, I just need to polish here and there... I kept thinking about and considering my sharp time-window. An eel bite my brain, screaming -Blink, blink!
Almost there.
-Borges, ... something ... something ... something ...
To which I did not hesitate to answer. -Yes.
Submit
-Victory! I shout within my head.
-Borges, we are late!
I stand up really fast, with a smile on my face. I was so happy. Running to the kitchen I grab a pile of small pieces of bread, leftovers from Luca which were probably leaked all over... Never mind. Food is Food. I hate to wast needlessly. Grabbed a fruit (can't remember). All so fast. Ah.. bananas. I had that. A quick teeth brush and let's go real-work.
Real-Work now, fellows.
And that is it.
A writer's productive morning.
b.b.
