The exercise:
Write about: an entry.
Showing posts with label Entry Prompt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Entry Prompt. Show all posts
Thursday January 29th, 2015
The exercise:
Write something that has to do with: entry.
After spending most of the morning wiping Max's nose, I drove down to Osoyoos to help Kat's dad work on our bathroom renovation. We removed a bunch of wall boards that we'll be replacing with drywall, and that earned us enough space to take the bathtub out.
It's a great big mess in there right now, but Kat's dad is getting a plumber in (hopefully tomorrow) to have a look at things and then it should be time to start replacing stuff. Sadly, the demolition phase appears to be over.
Very excited that Sue, my sister who lives in Calgary, is arriving tomorrow evening. Really hoping that all that good stuff we stuffed into Max today will help him feel better for his aunt's visit.
Mine:
The warm July air drifted into the house through an open window in the kitchen. It circled the room, slowly, slowly, before slipping into the narrow hall that led to the front of the house. The door to the office was open, so it paused to take a look.
A cluttered desk, two disorganized bookshelves, thick green curtains drawn across a small window. None of these held its interest, but it did linger for a while in front of the calendar tacked to the back of the door. A snowy scene loomed over the days and events of January, marred by only a few hastily scribbled reminders.
With what might have been a sigh, the air returned to the hall and continued on its way. An empty bathroom was left uninspected, as something at the front door had caught its attention. Four pairs of winter boots sat on the mat, one small red boot tipped over on its side.
How strange, thought the air.
The silence in the house was heavy, like a thick fog had come across the lake and made itself at home there. It was unbroken by words or footsteps or laughter. But... was that breathing coming from the living room?
Yes. A man sat there, slumped on one of the couches. Expressionless, holding an abandoned book in both hands at his lap, he stared a distant stare out the front window. He did not seem particularly happy, thought the air.
After only a few moments the air flowed quickly back the way it had come from and returned to the outside world. It had seen enough of that place.
Write something that has to do with: entry.
After spending most of the morning wiping Max's nose, I drove down to Osoyoos to help Kat's dad work on our bathroom renovation. We removed a bunch of wall boards that we'll be replacing with drywall, and that earned us enough space to take the bathtub out.
It's a great big mess in there right now, but Kat's dad is getting a plumber in (hopefully tomorrow) to have a look at things and then it should be time to start replacing stuff. Sadly, the demolition phase appears to be over.
Very excited that Sue, my sister who lives in Calgary, is arriving tomorrow evening. Really hoping that all that good stuff we stuffed into Max today will help him feel better for his aunt's visit.
Mine:
The warm July air drifted into the house through an open window in the kitchen. It circled the room, slowly, slowly, before slipping into the narrow hall that led to the front of the house. The door to the office was open, so it paused to take a look.
A cluttered desk, two disorganized bookshelves, thick green curtains drawn across a small window. None of these held its interest, but it did linger for a while in front of the calendar tacked to the back of the door. A snowy scene loomed over the days and events of January, marred by only a few hastily scribbled reminders.
With what might have been a sigh, the air returned to the hall and continued on its way. An empty bathroom was left uninspected, as something at the front door had caught its attention. Four pairs of winter boots sat on the mat, one small red boot tipped over on its side.
How strange, thought the air.
The silence in the house was heavy, like a thick fog had come across the lake and made itself at home there. It was unbroken by words or footsteps or laughter. But... was that breathing coming from the living room?
Yes. A man sat there, slumped on one of the couches. Expressionless, holding an abandoned book in both hands at his lap, he stared a distant stare out the front window. He did not seem particularly happy, thought the air.
After only a few moments the air flowed quickly back the way it had come from and returned to the outside world. It had seen enough of that place.
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