Conversation between me and my husband (who doesn’t understand creative work ethics):
Victor: Why dont you get off the couch and get some work done? You’ve done virtually nothing today.
me: I’ve done LOTS.
Victor: You’ve watched TV.
me: I’m watching the BBC. So it’s classy. Plus I’m doing research for English words. Because England is where the words come from.
Victor: What words?
me: ALL THE WORDS. It’s practically where English was invented.
Victor: It is where English was invented.
me: THEN WHAT ARE WE YELLING ABOUT?
Victor: You’ve wasted your entire morning watching Doctor Who.
me: I AM LEARNING ABOUT THE SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM. It’s like that week that I tried to read A Brief History of Time. Except better, because this I can actually finish.
Victor: There are like 50 years worth of Doctor Who episodes.
me: I stand uncorrected. Also? I’ve been keeping the cat alive.
me: For the last 4 hours I’ve been single-handedly keeping the cat alive.
Victor: And how’s that then?
me: Through pills. It’s a 12 hour slow-release capsule. So technically the cat and I have been working on his dodgy thyroid for 4 straight hours.
Victor: You gave the cat his pill four hours ago and you’ve watched Doctor Who. THIS DOESN’T COUNT AS PRODUCTIVE. Also, it’s not “single-handedly” if a pill is doing all of the work.
me: Don’t be ridiculous. Pills don’t have hands. All it has to do is dissolve. Plus, I learned the word “dodgy” this morning. Bloody good word there, mate.
Victor: You are impossible.
me: No, I am unpredictable. Like right now I’m going to switch off the tv and meditate. It’s good for my inner…something. I don’t know the word. I probably will after I finish all those Doctor Whos though.
Victor: That’s not meditating. That’s napping.
me: It’s horizontal meditation. It’s a new thing. You should try it. The cat and I love it.
Victor: This is the reason you’re up all night panicking about deadlines…because you don’t work in the day like a normal person.
me: I just finished watching a show about time-management. I think I know what I’m doing, sir.
Victor: You just finished watching a show about time-travel.
me: That’s about as managed as time can get, I’m pretty sure. I’M HAVING A VERY PRODUCTIVE DAY.
Victor: You watched a tv show about farting aliens.
Victor: What do you mean “spoilers”? YOU LITERALLY JUST WATCHED IT.
me: I watched some of it. Then my body demanded horizontal meditation. IT’S LIKE YOU’RE NOT EVEN LISTENING TO ME.
Victor: AAARGH! You are so incredibly…
Victor: NO. NOT DODGY AT ALL. THAT’S NOT EVEN HOW THAT WORD WORKS.
me: How about dicky? Like if someone has a bad heart in England they say he has a “dicky ticker”. Which is sort of fun to say.
me: Say it. Say “Dicky ticker.”
Victor: I’M NOT SAYING IT.
Me: Alright. No need to get dicky.
Victor: YOU’RE NOT EVEN USING THAT WORD RIGHT.
me: I’m pretty sure I am. “Dicky” means “unsound” and “unsound” means “not based on sound evidence or reasoning and therefore unacceptable.” Looks like pretty clear proof that you’re being all kinds of dicky.
Victor: Just stop talking.
And then I did. Mostly because I was worried all this arguing was putting an undo strain on the cat’s thyroid. Also, I don’t know what a thyroid does. Then I came in here and started typing and Victor seemed relieved that I was finally getting to work, but really I was just writing this all down because later I’d like to remember whatever it is that I’m demanding an apology for. I still haven’t entirely figured that one out.