Priorities

So, coffee in hand I arrive at work, turn on my computer, check I-Ching, e-mail and am in the process of deciding what to tackle next when Zorro enters the room.  He gives me that 'Oh, crap' look and leaves the room.

Next, Frankie enters.  She leans against the storage chest and announces, "Ya, know, I could write the preamble to the Constitution in the dust of this room."

Me:  "And, so?"

Frankie: "Well, don't you think someone should do that?  Dust I mean, not write the preamble?"

Me:  What do you suggest?"

Frankie"  "I happen to know your cleaning supplies have taken up a lease in your supplies closet, they might enjoy a day out."

Me:  "Really?...and...?  Again, what do you suggest?"

Frankie:  (With great emphasis, disgust, and aplomb.) "Get you dang self out of that dang chair and fling a rag around."

Me: (Unaffected by this rant.)  "Uh-huh."  (I’m loving this; Frankie is sooo easy to get riled up.  The calmer I stay, the riled-er she becomes.) 

Frankie:  "You, you, you..."

Me:  (In my head...Uh-oh, here it comes.)

Frankie:  "One of these days...one of these days."  She waves her arms around like a lunatic, sputtering something about THAT being my job and I really need to do something about it...

Me:  (More calm than ever.) "...and, you don't know how to fling a rag?"

Frankie, sputters in defeat, harrumphs from the room, heaven forbid she should 'work'.   Ah, peace and quiet.  I won and doubt I'll see her again till noon.  She and Zorro can console each other watching TV while I enjoy the pleasures of my creativity.

In the meantime, the dust will continue to gather, I think until it's thick enough to write the next great American Novel in it...it will continue to do so.