“Annie, wake up Annie! Are you awake Annie?”
I blearily eye my muse from beneath the covers. Immaculate as usual, he sits on the edge of my bed all wide awake and excited. “What time is it?” I mumble.
“Two thirty? Whatthehelldoyawant, I have an appointment in the morning, why are you bugging me now?”
He had the good grace to look abashed. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I came up with some really cute ideas for that funny story you were playing with… We don’t do funny stuff very often and I just knew you would love it! But you’re right, you have to get up soon and take Katie to that doctor. I’ll try to remember and tell you some other time.” He stands up to leave.
“Oh, no you don’t, Buster!” I grab his sleeve. “You never remember these things later on! Just make it quick, okay?”
Several pages and an hour later he finally decides to finish. I lay back down and begin to doze when he taps me on the shoulder again. “Annie? I thought of something else. Annie?”
I really can’t blame him; I’m normally up until the wee hours visiting him. Unfortunately, the events of these past few days have meant late evenings, early mornings and no time for a visit to my beloved muse. I’m sure he’s felt quite neglected!
Such is the life of a writer; we serve the muse regardless of the hours he makes us keep. How did you sleep last night?