"Just a while ago my soul was confused, amused…"-O.A.R.

Today I waited. Do you know what that's like to a person like me?

Active imagination.

Life altering events.

Can I have an order of thumb-screws to go with that?

I'm a shark that stops swimming. Yeah, I know, that's just a myth but it sounds so much cooler than "I'm a Rob, waiting." If I'm going to sound pathetic, I want to sound cool about it.

So why is Rob waiting? Thanks for asking! Let me tell ya; this is what happened. I got up and started into my normal routine. Coffee perking, newspaper ready, computer turned on (in a purely platonic way), and XM radio blaring. I check my work email--I didn't get to do that. That's where I got stalled. On the screen is a message "This computer is locked from a remote location…" Somebody's installing something on my work computer.

Great. Do they know what this does to my routine?

So I begin handling my personal email and blog business. My friends are busy devouring divorce-help books, and you guys have been exceptionally quiet; if you were a room full of three year olds I'd be exceptionally suspicious. But no, you're just being shy. Fine, except that now I'm done with my routine, and my work computer still says somebody's working on it.

Sigh…

I wander off to read my paper. Did you know there wasn't even any insanity reported in the world today? A few months ago we had Chewbacca attacking tourists. That was good reading. People dress up in costumes and panhandle in front of the Chinese Theatre. Apparently somebody pissed off Chewy, and he went berserk. According to the news report Superman stood there and watched the whole thing, but didn't lift a finger to help. I swear, if I could make this stuff up, I'd be published by now. Instead I have to peer vicariously through the world windows around me. In the time it took me to relay that story, I'd finished my paper. Even the comics sucked. Ok, Dilbert was funny, but he doesn't count; he hangs out in the Business Section. That Dilbert, he's a loaner.

So back to the computer I go, and in disappointment I remain. Somebody's still on my computer. Except now, I'm starting to wonder. Maybe they finished and forgot to release me. I'm a tagged salmon, abandoned on the shore, inches from the water.

Flap-flap "Uh. Guys?"

They should take a lesson from MyWife.

I could log in, but if I do, I risk booting them. Techs at my work are the biggest crybabies.

"Waaaa! He knocked me off the computer. Waaa!"

Oh, and here's a quick impression for you. Here's a tech solving a problem, "Reboot your computer."

"I just did."

"Reboot it again."

"Reboot" is the tech answer to everything at my work. My computer could be sinking in six feet of water, and the only way to fix it is a reboot. Excuse me while I get my neighbor to do that.

Oooh…I didn't know people lit up like that…

So, I call the helpdesk. They should know if somebody's working on my computer. They should…and probably do, but nobody's answering the phone. I leave a message.

I wait for a reply.

And wait.

I'm still waiting.

I need to do something. This waiting is agonizing. I'll over ripen I'll spoil and turn bitter. Look at the comment I made about MyWife 12 burst-paragraphs up. Isn't that bitter? I'm not bitter normally. Okay, maybe I am, but waiting isn't helping. I should DO something.

Well I can't work.

I should write something. I haven't written anything besides my blog in months. I've got 3 novel length projects on hold, and I just can't get back into them.

One's a spy type thing called Hindsight. I started it for my dad. He likes spies. It also deals with our isolation culture. He isn't as into that, but as I'm sitting here waiting for a callback, I begin to wonder if I shouldn't start working on this one again.

Another one is a fluff piece. I wrote 2 character sketches, hoping to turn them into a collaborative work. Say hi to Andrew and Holly. They're characters without a home. I'd be surprised to hear from their would-be collaborator (like holding my breath, passing out, coming to, and finding Ed McMahon leaning over me surprised. Does he even do that anymore?), but Holly needs a woman's touch. So I'm not going back to their story alone; at least not right now.

The last one is about destiny vs. freewill. It follows movie producer and a vengeful psychic as they battle for world domination. Ok, why does the over-simplification sound even cooler than the real story? It's the one I want to work on most, but some of the characters are too close to people I know. So that's going to be a bit.

I find a sketch for a short story. Something about Siamese twins and a chocolate curse. I can work on this one.

Still no call from work. I'm thinking over my next blog. I thought about a bunch of things I could say about "Us." The whys, the what's gone befores, the any of its. I'm done. I'm tired. "Macarena" tired, and if I ever hear the opening strains of my divorce or that stupid song again, somebody's getting the business end of a cheese grater. The last thing I want to talk about is "Us" There is no Us. Right now the divorce is a story about me, alone. I'm researching that story now; one step at a time. But right now, you're up to date on Rob and his divorce story. Right now—

Ring, ring.

The phone (Yeah, I kept the stand-in. It did such a good job in last weeks blog).

"Hello."

"Rob, it's Sam."

"Hey Sam, can I get on to my computer?"

"Yeah, they've been done for hours."

"Oh, well I wish somebody could have told me."

"We did, we sent you an email."

Of course you did, and you sent it to my work account that I can't access because…

Maybe I should get a lobotomy. I wouldn't have to think about all this crap in my downtime, and I could still get a job as a tech in my company.

Now it's time to start work.