Mourn the Gap

“I can’t do stream of consciousness,” a lover of books, words, and a client I counsel told me. “You can’t do stream of consciousness?!” I asked, much too accusatorily, as if I were being asked to teach breathing. The task was simple: to write a letter to their fear, to this jump-scare horror movie feeling, you know the one, that feeling that leaves neck hairs hand standing on end.

But they couldn’t. “The editor won’t let me.” That dang editor, the asshole with a forever piece of gristle stuck in his gapped tooth. Speaking of tooth gaps, I used to have a spray-hose spewer of space between my front teeth. Chiclets are the name my aunt called my rectangular fronts, and although somewhat annoyed by the sentiment, who isn’t a fan of a chiclet? Anyway, and seriously, I had a range that could span a room, and there were often times I’d hit my little brother right in the face with a shot of warm mouth water.

But when at seven, my parents called in the orthodontist, prison guards came in the form of braces and handcuffed those chiclets together in remediation. And although it’s been three decades since I mourn the gap anytime it comes to mind.

Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, the editor. So I told them, to write a letter to the editor. Tell them what an a-hole they are for stifling your creative juju. Bullhorn your love of language like that kid on Say Anything. Tell them it’s not time for editing, but time for the finger pads to trickle the mind’s playground into action. To set the Ferris wheel in motion.

How do I change the subject? Anywho. Our new-built house has walls! But don’t take that exclamation point to the bank with you because I’m disappointed. I explained to Dave that just like when I write the first draft of a blog I usually hate it, but then in editing, rearranging, and perfecting it, it transforms into something I like, maybe even something I adore or love. That’s what this is. Seeing the shadowed porch below the deck’s overhang, I worried about the amount of sunlight that would be blocked. Also, the number and size of the windows are smaller and less than I wish we had. Additionally, the garage looked wide enough to only fit one car when it should fit two. And I worried that the tongue and groove ceilings wouldn’t be done.

The garage picture was likely a fish-eye lens. The number of windows we can modify. The overhang we can paint white and install fun fans. I’m feeling slightly better because it’s a work in progress.

Want to see a picture?