Pressure

Ok, so now I’m feeling a little pressure. Not a lot, but some – primarily because I (darn it all!) can’t see the future. 

I’m doing a favour for a very good friend, being second driver on a trip he’s making to buy a car – let’s face it, we can’t drive two cars at once. This trip is about 1800 miles there and back, and well, that takes time. We left yesterday, and we do the deed and head back home on Sunday – or Monday. 

Anyway, it’s an unhappy coincidence that I also have a paper due on Tuesday, and that at some point in these proceedings my mind will need to engage my fingers, which will need to engage my creative cortex, drag the thing from cerebral limbo and meld it into evidentiary isness. Nope, the prof cannot climb up into my little cerebral gaps and spaces to grade my thoughts – she must have something tangible in her hand – a transference of my thoughts into permanent record is required – a proof, if you will, that the thoughts actually occurred.

The question is, with all this driving and recovering and driving again (in the pouring rain, no less) when do I find the time to actually call the thoughts to attention? When does the transformation occur? When do I bring the monster to life?

So here I sit in a friendly road-side diner, thinking about my assignment. Not writing it, mind you, but thinking about it, and the pressure builds because even though I know it shall eventually come to be, I can’t say precisely when.

Breakfast anyone?

The kitchen on the go

 

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