Chapter 37 - Faux Vinyl Ant Chair

Sitting here making faux amber beads out of clay with my wonderful wife, our two dogs at our feet, me reading the beautiful strange writing of The Man Who Couldn't Blog, a peaceful night, and then she says, "What's the difference between just keeping a journal and "As it Happens" writing?

I think for a moment, I had it worked out a while ago. I don't answer.

"I mean, I can see if you were writing in third person, then it would make sense... but now isn't it the difference between a sanitary engineer and a garbage man?"

"Well that's how it started out, remember? I would write everything, as it happens, in third person."

"Well you better have it worked out or somebody's going to call your silly ass on it."

I realize she's right. There is no difference between what I am doing and a million other bloggers. Unless I start writing in third person right now...

J got up and went into the bathroom. Mike heard the water running. She came back out wearing the necklace she had just put together. It was beautiful.

"An ant just crawled right up my face," she said. "Either that chair goes or I go."

Mike felt the faux vinyl of the old car seat that he had wired to the milk crate. It was one of the most comfortable chairs he had ever sat in. But it had a few ants in it and even though he cleaned it really well, he didn't get them all. He hated the idea that the chair, his homemade chair, that was more like a functional sculpture than chair, had to go. He slapped an ant off his neck and sighed.