The Writer at Work

11196337_10206994916735619_1548384793979297535_nMy dad took this picture of me when he came to visit a few weeks ago. I am sitting on my beloved porch with my laptop and a cup of tea, as I do every morning… or at least, every morning since I’ve been here.

It’s been a month already. The time has flown by, because I have kept myself moving. I do my best thinking while mobile, so I often type to my heart’s content and then gather my things to take off for the city. They are, in no particular order of importance:

  • my laptop
  • my phone
  • my keyboard
  • my mouse
  • my Kindle
  • charging cables for my iPhone and Kindle
  • my wallet, complete with Metro SmartCard
  • my glasses case
  • my keys

If I lose my backpack, my entire life goes with it. I guard it judiciously, because even though there is nothing in there that can’t be replaced, it’s my stuff. I am used to my keyboard; my fingers fly across the keys as if only gravity could stop them, and doesn’t.

I thought you might want a picture of where I live and where I do my best writing, because it means something to have a setting. There’s a bird feeder behind me, and birds constantly talk throughout the day. I have learned to tune them out………… sort of.


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