Squeaky Toys Are Not Conducive To Making A Creative Environment

Bruce, not getting the memo on this, disagrees. High pitched squeaks interrupt my brainstorming. In silent reproach, I stare at the googly eyed gremlin gnawing at the translucent spikey green ball. His short snout turns up to meet my disproving gaze. Tilting his head, he returns to make the ball screech.

I don’t know about everyone else, but I need certain things to be effective. The less I sense in the real world the more I get written. The more I get written the closer I come to my goals. Bruce doesn’t care. He must destroy the squeak maker.

That’s fine. He can and will grow tired of the squeak maker and after all, I am the one responsible for him possessing the toy. The diversion is my fault. I gave a dog-toy dismantler a noisy toy to dismantle.

If I am being honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The diversion makes me smile, and I am glad to have my four-legged friends around. So while it delayed me for a moment, it made me smile and chuckle to myself.

Thanks, Bruce. Chew on.