She is not a-MUSEd

The Muse is a terribly fickle creature. One day she is generous to a fault, supplying new words and ideas without making any demands. And on other days she's a goner. Split to who-knows-where without so much as a forwarding address or a formal goodbye.
But then there's those in-between days. The ones where I'm sure I can write something but it'll require far more effort than I feel like putting forth. I call those moments my Avoidance Times. I've become quite the avoidance aficionado. Instead of writing I've been known to:

Vacuum under the couch cushions.(Today I found one black sock, the dog's bone, 3 extra-cheddar Goldfish crackers, and a dried up felt tipped marker.)

Choose a name for my next child (even though I have no intention of having anymore kids in this lifetime.)

Watch E-TV or Judge Judy.(Or American Idol or Modern Family.)

Put on my headphones and sing out loud to my entire IPOD playlist. (This if only the pup is home since she doesn't seem to mind the noise.)

To name just a few.

The Muse generally stands on the sidelines, tapping an impatient toe, signalling that she's waiting for me to cut the nonsense and get down to business.

She threatens to embark on a semi-permanent hiatus.
"You'll miss me," she warns.
And she's right. She scares me straight. Then I'm at it again. Typing, thinking, plotting and typing some more.
There is NO rest for the weary writer. I'm just sayin'...