Clarity of Mind

30 Minus 2 Days of Writing (2013)
Day 23: “Absurd”

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Saturday afternoon, I found myself alone for the first time in what will soon be my new home. Up until that point, I had spent the better part of the day working with my father and a hired construction crew on a massive house remodeling project. By four o’clock, my father and the crew had left for the day, but I decided to stay a little longer because there were still hundreds of staples left to remove from the kitchen floorboard where linoleum once rested on top of particle wood. It’s tedious work, but I figure the sooner I get the kitchen re-tiled, the sooner Diana and I will be able to move in.

There’s something immensely gratifying about repetitive manual labor performed in isolation within lonely spaces. There are no distractions or errant voices to pull you back into the world of conscious thought and conversational civility. There’s just you, your hands, and your work. It’s moments like these when my life gets about as close to zen as it will ever be. I do have to admit, though, my imperfect moments of zen are full of idle mental chatter.

Sometime in the afternoon after I was alone for the second hour, I was using a pair of pliers to unwedge a stubborn nail from the kitchen wall when I accidentally snapped the nail in half. I was motionless for a second as I stared at the irretrievable remnant of the broken nail resting comfortably in its tidy hole. I distinctly remember the sound of Electric Light Orchestra’s “Latitude 88 North” playing from the tinny speakers of my iPhone during that moment of stillness.

I afforded myself a tired chuckle, and I said aloud, “Damn, I just broke a nail.” Then suddenly, I felt compelled to clarify myself. “I mean literally. I broke a nail, not a…”

I stopped talking once I realized that there was nobody around to benefit from my clarification. I felt a little sheepish in that moment, but then I shrugged it off and went back to pulling out staples from the floorboard. That’s when my internal monologue took notice and started to give me lip.

How can you “literally” break a nail? There’s never been a figurative expression for that. You either “literally” break your fingernail, or you “literally” break a metal construction nail.

“Hey, I stopped myself, didn’t I? Let’s get back to work now.”

Who were you talking to, anyway?

“I really don’t need to hear this from you right now.”

Maybe if you listened to me more often, you’d make better decisions in life.

“Are we really having this conversation right now? I have staples to pull.”

Your father is a lot faster at this than you are. He’s twice your age, too. How do you live with yourself?

“It’s not a race. I’m just here to do the work. Speaking of time constraints though, why don’t you stop bothering me and get back to thinking about what we’re going to write for today’s prompt from Nicky and Mike?”

“Absurd”, huh? Don’t worry, I’ve got us covered.

“You’re not just going to post this conversation we’re having now, are you?”

. . . What? No. . . Shut up!

“Terrible. You’re fired when this writing challenge is over. In the very least, could you please try not to embarrass me or make me look ridiculous when we post this conversation later on?”

Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.

“Did you know I still occasionally wet the bed? It only happens when I dream about marshmallows, though. Those things give me the heebie jeebies. I’m so soft, I chipped my tooth on a bite of Jello.”

Oh yeah . . . I think this will turn out just fine.

30 Minus 2 Days of Writing (2013)
A painful exercise in forced inspiration brought to you by
“We Work for Cheese“