Sunday, May 17, 2015

Some like it loud

The sounds of a newsroom on deadline had me from the start, with reporters at the old T-T writing furiously on manual typewriters, ripping actual paper out and crumpling it up, the alarm sounding when an important story came in over the wires.

Although computers had replaced typewriters by the time I got to The Republican, the newsroom could still get noisy. Someone gave me a sign from Wimbledon that read Quiet, Please, and if reporters and editors talked loudly around me when I was doing a phone interview, I would hold up it up. It was a lot of fun and although I still have nightmares about work – no chair, no computer, no light – I miss the camaraderie.

So I felt comfortable yesterday when I went to the Thirsty Mind to write. It is reunion weekend at Mount Holyoke, and as more people came in, the noise level rose to a din. Rather than distracting me, it formed a cocoon around me and allowed me to write.

I often do fine sitting at the kitchen looking out at the garden, but too many distractions compete for my attention at home. Still haven't cut down the dead stalks from winter! Laundry needs to be put away, the kitchen cleaned up, bills paid, and biggest distraction of all, the stack of papers pertaining to my travel arrangements is in my line of sight.

I could clear the decks and put it all away, but still I would know it is there. Get out of the house, get away from it all.

Everything on my end is in order for my trip to Boston tomorrow. I will be waiting at the end of my driveway. I wonder if I will have the same driver who left without either coming into my driveway or calling me from the foot of the driveway last time. I think I won't ask; it might make my blood pressure rise.

The drivers you get through The Ride within the Boston area will take you on errands.  When I drive myself I have been stopping at a supermarket near Margaret's to bring watermelon and blueberries. I am now the watermelon lady. I don't like to arrive empty-handed.

 It's great to have friends who make you feel at home. Margaret has dubbed the guest room where I sleep my own room. Natty brings my bag up. Nick offers me a drink. We talk about politics and other interesting topics and then it's early to bed so I can be picked up at 6:15 (I hope) to return for the second round of pheresis.

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