Why I Need Wine (this time)

Have you ever had that moment where you finally get time to write and you actually get in the writing zone...
 the words are flowing, the scene is coming together perfectly....
and then....
 your son comes home from work where someone dropped a dasher board on his foot, and he takes off his boot and his foot is a hundred shades of black, blue, and purple....

  so then you have to stop writing and make sure that he told the appropriate people and filled out the appropriate paperwork so that his employer will pay the doctor bills that are going to come from his possibly broken foot, but of course you do this after getting him ice for his foot because that's what good mom's do, except you really didn't do that first because the thought of those doctor bills was nearly as traumatic as the sight of your son's foot being pretty much all the colors on the indigo/violet end of the rainbow spectrum, but hey, at least you got around to getting ice at some point...

and then when you finally get your son taken care of, you sit back down but there is no way you can write anymore because instead of your story, all the thoughts running through your imagination involve things like how your son could have had a toe severed by his steel-toe boots if that dasher board had dropped just a few centimeters north?

No? That's just me? Okay. I need wine!

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