Slow Day

Yay, it is time for Paula’s Tuesday Story!

I’m not gonna provide a specific update on my eyes today, because I reckon they’re pretty much back to how they were. It’s a difficult one because, even before, they were far from perfect.

I remember last Tuesday, before anything happened, mentioning that I wasn’t sure about a couple of the photos, so winging it. I think I’ve got them all today, so I came up with this.

When I read it back it sounded kinda like the type of book I used to read my daughter, so don’t go expecting classic literature! It’s quite long, for me, but nice and lightweight.

Images today are:

Jen had always loved writing, from High School, but it was only in the last couple of years that she had begun to label herself as a writer.

Her writing had been spotted by a TV studio, who had asked her to provide some lines for several shows. Seemingly, she passed the test, and had been invited to write more lines for one show in particular, a known sitcom, already with four seasons under its belt.

With financial success, she was able to rent some modest office space in Manhattan. One line of work generated more lines of work, and it was useful to be in close proximity to the action.

Jen’s personal life, however, was not so successful, and last year, having finally decided to give up on men, had bought herself a puppy. Mutt, as he was known, went everywhere with Jen, even coming into the city to spend the day guarding her at her office.

Jen’s star continued to ascend, and this summer she had followed the Bohemian path, and rented a summer house in East Hampton, for a full three months of summer. Jen had planned to use the quiet time to work on next season’s scripts.

Shortly after breakfast, the phone rang. A flap with the show. They were filming at the moment, the producers wanted to rewrite three scenes, and wanted the new scenes… yesterday!

“Sorry, buddy”, she said to Mutt, as she came off the phone, “you’re gonna have to amuse yourself today, until I get this done. Should only be a few hours.”

Bemused, Mutt watched his mum disappear into her study. He sat outside. He could wait this one out.

An hour later, and Mutt was fed up. He stretched himself, and got up to take a stroll around the house. The weather had been warm, and to his delight, Mutt found an open window in mum’s bedroom. He looked outside to the wisteria outside her window. I can easily make that, he thought, and jumped. From there, it was a mere hop onto the ground, and Mutt leapt out of the garden into the street outside.

What’s going on? he wondered. He tried their usual haunts. He scrounged a piece of cod from the fishmonger’s, who came out shouting when he realised that Mutt was unaccompanied.

Same result at Jones the butchers. “What were all these guys shouting about?”, thought Mutt, before resolving to find somewhere quieter. “I know”, he thought, “I’ll try the library. It’s always quiet there. Maybe I can go there and someone will play with me?”

He got to the library. They knew it well, and Jen often sought refuge here, just for a change of scenery. The librarian was busy, though, and ignored him. “Woof”. No response. “Woof, woof”, he barked, a little louder. The librarian looked up. “Shhhhh”, he said, “don’t you know to be quiet here? I’m busy sorting some books, so I can’t play today. Where’s your mum, anyway?” The librarian moved towards him, but Mutt was wary. He turned away, he’d give that one a miss, thank you.

Mutt ran straight down to the beach. Oh, yes! Some children were down there, playing beach volleyball. “Kids!”, thought Mutt, “they always like to have fun. They look like they’ll be up for a game.” Spying a neat row of the childrens’ shoes, Mutt thought, “Oh yes. They’ll do for a start. Where can I bury them?”


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