🍟 Mischief Monday: When Creativity Ate My Dinner
It all started innocently enough: I sat down to write just one more paragraph. You know, the famous last words of every writer who’s ever burned a meal, missed a meeting, or forgotten her own name.
Somewhere between “this line could be funnier” and “I should proofread that one more time,” my dinner arrived — a glorious cheesesteak and sweet-potato-fries combo, still sizzling when it landed on my doorstep.
And there it sat.
For forty.
Whole.
Minutes.
I only remembered when Phoebe and Maggie started their pre-walk wiggle dance, and I opened the door to what can only be described as a tragic culinary crime scene.
Cold cheese. Congealed grease. Fries that had given up all will to live.
It wasn’t dinner anymore — it was a cautionary tale.
💡 The Lesson (If We Can Call It That)
Writing can feed the soul, but it also starves the body. Somewhere out there, a DoorDash driver thinks I’m dead, and honestly, I can’t even be mad about it.
Because when the words come, you chase them. Even if that means eating sweet-potato fries that are soggy with regret.
✍️ Moral of the Story
The next time you tell yourself, “I’ll grab my food in a minute,” remember: a minute in writer-time equals forty in real-world minutes.
Still, I’ll take cold fries and a good paragraph over hot food and no ideas any day.
Menopause & Malarkey
Because sometimes inspiration strikes… and dinner dies. 💋
© 2025 Menopause & Malarkey — Where Experience Meets Exasperation.
Menopause & Malarkey 