Work Undone

I'm finding it difficult to get any kind of work done today. Mostly because my mom (who's in town this week, yay!) is sitting next to me with her laptop on her knees, "working" while chattering about all kinds of minutia. Including how she has a bad butt. (numb from all the traveling, I suppose)


Hmmm, kids running circles around me, screaming (yes, with baskets on their heads),  aren't capable of infiltrating my deep concentration-but my mom? Well that's a different matter. She speaks and my ears automatically perk up. I'm like Pavlov's dog, salivating at the sound of a bell. Moms must have some kind of sonar device implanted in their voices that penetrate the soundest of minds.


What the? ..Thirty minutes just elapsed between the last line I wrote and now.  She sucked me in again. One second I'm working on here and the next I'm involved in a highly detailed tale about...well I can't tell you that, it's a family secret. (wink, wink)


I can't work this way. It's enough to make a person crazy!

You know what? I take life far too seriously. I'm knocking off of here so I can focus my attention on bugging my mom. I'm going to wait for just the right moment, when she's fully engrossed in one of her spreadsheets, and then I'm going to ask her how her butt feels.