This must be what the the first dawn in Eden was like, I think, as I open my laptop by the kitchen window and prepare to pour my soul into something inspired. A perfect morning. Pink light filtering in over the keyboard, bees beginning their rounds, tiny yellow birds rustling awake in the trees, the hum of the refrigerator--and the slightly irritating rattle as it vibrates against the wall. I hear a whimper. I ignore it. I'm writing. I'm focused. Another whine--pitiful and insistent. The dog is standing outside the window, staring at me with the intense concentration that I myself can never seem to achieve. I sigh, abandon the keyboard and let him in. Grab more coffee. Maybe a piece of toast will help. I sit. Gather my thoughts. Prepare for inspiration. It's about time for the parrot to wake up. Wait for it... Wait for it... Exactly two minutes later, the kitchen echoes with "It's cold outside!" (she's inside) "Come 'ere, come 'ere!" Another sigh and I rise to uncover her, put her on the kitchen perch, then sit at the keyboard and anticipate her shriek that means "What are you doing over there when you should be paying attention to me?" I bend over the keys. She shrieks. I stand up again. The dog thinks it must be time for breakfast. He ambles, stiff-legged, into the kitchen. She leans from her perch and tries to catch his ear. He barks. She screams "Shut up, Buddy!" and laughs manically. The hubby shuffles in. He casually asks, "Are you writing?" I give him THAT LOOK. He graciously starts a breakfast of blueberry waffles. My favorite. I guess I can write later. After I fold the laundry.