Is Her Name Muse?

Creativity is a slippery little devil. It cuddles up to me and whispers in my ear just as I’m falling asleep, all promises and blandishment. In the morning, however, it is all rumpled and its eyes are crusty and it squinches up its face and says Go away.

So, I go about my house, doing small chores and cleanings, keeping one eye on the grumplepuss and hoping that it will work out the kinks and come play. Finally, giving up, I sit at my computer, play some game, edit a story, look at images I’m considering for a book cover—and the little stinker just lays there and snores. Hmph. I’m staring deadlines in the face, and it can’t be bothered.

Grumbling under my breath, I wander into the kitchen thinking about dinner. I could come up with something tantalizing and tasty that would make my husband sit up and bark if I could only get some help from the lay-about in the other room, but noooo. Fine. I’ll just reheat the chicken and dumplings we had two nights ago and make some rice with…

I’m standing at the refrigerator, door open, with my eyes fastened on the pot in my hands, but my mind is juggling three different ideas for the book cover I’ve been contemplating. Coming to myself I hear the giggle behind me and smell the sweet breath of Creativity washing over me. Poor Ed. His dinner will have to wait. I have a will-o’-the-wisp to follow….