Polish: Dom Siódmego Menueta
I ate at a diner that overlooked the river that ran along Highway 90, then found the Eagle Cliff Store. They had enough provisions for me to get through a few more days in the house, but I knew that if I wanted all of my favorite things, I would have to head into town. I wasn’t yet ready for the hour-long drive, however; I was still tired from moving, so I decided to put it off for a couple more days.
Once I was back at the house and had all my things put away, the sun was starting to set. Dinner was shrimp and fettuccine noodles with alfredo sauce, plus salad and grilled squash. I knew how to make the sauce on my own, and over the years I’d figured out how to portion things down so there would only be enough for me. After all, I hardly ever had anyone over, even in my suburban apartment.
After dinner it was time to have a bath, then sit down and write. I had another week to get a certain article done, so I decided to focus on some creative writing for that evening. My new office had me curled up in the biggest rolling chair I could find a little at eight, a mug of jasmine tea close by.
About an hour into writing, I was really on a roll and had no interest in stopping. I kept on writing, the night falling deeper and deeper around my forested house. Like many other writers, I do a lot more writing at night, when things are quiet and I have no distractions. It’s just me and the keyboard, no interferences. My story at the time involved several elves and the dragons they were trying to make peace with, so being in the forest gave me a lot of ideas.
I didn’t know what time it was when I started to feel weary. I’m pretty much a night owl, and staying up late could all too easily take me all the way to dawn. Sometimes it was a choice between staying up to get my ideas down so they didn’t get lost, or getting some sleep so I’d be able to write the next day as well. Not having anywhere in particular to be the next day really made it tempting to simply keep writing.
It was time for a bathroom break. That, at least, was a surefire way to get me off of the computer. I could hear the clock chiming out that it was midnight as I finished washing my hands and shut off the bathroom light. Well, it wasn’t one or two yet; maybe I could write a little bit more…
I stopped in the hallway, standing completely still. There was music playing. To a lot of people, that wouldn’t be a problem at all, but I hadn’t played anything on the computer or anywhere else. All of my writing had been done while listening to the gentle rustle of the wind in the trees. Where in the world could the violin have been? Well, I assumed it was a violin, anyhow.
My first idea was that perhaps the grandfather clock had a special twelve o’clock song that I hadn’t heard before. Deciding to head downstairs and check it out more closely, I switched on the stairwell light. I never made it down the stairs.
Lang Lang plays this minuet on piano beautifully– happy listening!
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