I was sitting at my kitchen table tapping away at my laptop this morning with my dear old dog at my side, as usual. I was typing this very story while I was continuously disturbed and interrupted. It was difficult to concentrate on my writing with all that racket going on.
My wife was vacuuming the floor and she was negotiating the business end of the vacuum cleaner around my feet, and the dog, as I attempted to keep in stride with my literary task at hand.
I said, “Hey, that vacuum cleaner really sucks!” then chuckled loudly.
She didn’t think that it was funny as I did. Soon thereafter, I heard some grunts and groans as she attempted to move the refrigerator so she could clean behind it – the ice box was winning this battle.
I could tolerate her blocking the TV for a few moments at a time, but this was approaching the nerve-racking level. After one last powerful groan, I stopped typing, and I knew what I had to do.
Then, my dog looked up at me in agreement and winked at me as a vote of confidence. Yes, I got up, we left the kitchen, and went off to the den to finish this story. The noise was all too maddening for me to concentrate.
Doing the right thing isn’t always easy, but it can be quite rewarding.