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March 16, 2005
On Not Writing
I’m sitting here in the coolest coffee shop in Moscow, making a blog entry. Which means that I’m not doing the thing I’m supposed to be doing, i.e. writing the paper tentatively titled “Macbeth and the Search for Truth: An Analysis of the Theme of Equivocation in Two Versions of Shakespeare’s Play.”
Thank goodness this place exists. It’s not actually as cool as the ones owned by the reactionary, pseudo-Christian, ultra right-wing, anti-gay freakazoids who are trying to take over Moscow (not that I have any opinion about them at all), but it gets overwhelming amounts of coolness points because it’s not owned by them. Sitting here, drinking a BIG Americano and nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie, I don’t have to worry about what my money is going toward.
I’m here in the coffee shop for 2 reasons:
1) I need to get this damn paper done this week, and while I’m home I can find all sorts of little jobs to do that become so necessary when I’m trying to not write. (Though I’m not as bad as Karl who once alphabetized his entire cd collection rather than write a paper for one of our most mutually hated classes. Now that Dave is an MFA candidate in the playwriting program, he too gets to take a full year of seminar. I bet he’ll find a day when what he most needs to do is sort his socks by color and material because enduring another moment of that class will kill him.)
2) The woman who cleans our house is due sometime between 11:30 and 12:30. For those of you about to decry my lazy ascent to greatness on the backs of the abused and underpaid masses, allow me to explain. Monica is a very nice 20-something woman with a toddler and her own business. She’s local, she makes $20/hour, and working for herself at house cleaning and child care allows her to spend far more time with her daughter than if she had an office job, which wouldn’t suit her at all anyway. Plus, my allergies get so bad when I do the cleaning that I just can’t do it anymore. And then there’s the graduate school factor…
It took Dave a long, loooong time to get his socialist wife to agree to hiring a housecleaner, but this arrangement is the best choice for all of us.
However. When I am home, she talks to me non-stop. I can’t work, and she takes a lot longer to get her own work done. Don’t get me wrong, she’s really great, and I would love to hang out with her. We have similar takes on a lot of things, and besides, I think she’s really lonely. But I have got to get some work done. Once I graduate maybe (since we’ll be here for a while yet).
Okay. To work to work to work.
Posted by sally at March 16, 2005 12:21 PM
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