Work Habits

I read that Stephen King used to write his books while listening to hard rock music and drinking heavily. I envy him, except for the part where he became a drunk and got hit by a car.

It sure would be nice to do great work while drunk and distracted. I’m pretty much the opposite. For example, I can’t write unless both of my ass cheeks are equally touching my chair and my feet are flat on the ground. This is inconvenient because sometimes I feel the need to cross my legs and favor one butt cheek over the other. When I assume that position, the best I can do is stare into space while trying to remember my name, species and gender. Apparently I have some sort of ass-brain neurological connection that needs to be just so.

I also can’t write if I am slightly hungry, thirsty or in need of a bathroom break. That eliminates about 70 percent of my potential work day. That’s why Dilbert has no mouth and no eyeballs – I just don’t have that kind of time.

Another 10 percent of my work day is allocated to thwarting my cat’s anti-productivity crusade. She hates it when I do work, under the universal cat theory that any time spent not petting her is time wasted. As soon as I pick up a drawing implement she systematically goes around my office chewing and scratching one item after another until she finds something that will make me stop work and pet her. I don’t want her to learn what will bother me most, so I try to trick her. I act all worked up when she eats a yellow sticky note while remaining nonchalant as she goes all mongoose on my monitor cable. We’ve been doing this routine for years, which is why my office looks like a Hezbollah safe house and all of my best ideas are inside my cat.

I’d write more but I feel a powerful need to cross my legs and…