The Art of Distraction

All in a Day’s Work

She closes her laptop. There’s nothing else she can do.

She’s doing the same thing she always does. When things get tough, she finds easy distractions and busies herself with them.

Sometimes she even tries to turn a hobby into a career. Sometimes it’s years of wasted time before she realizes what she’s been doing the whole time.

She’s running away from her work — her true purpose.

Her calling.

It’s the chase of instant gratification. It’s why she spends more than she earns and she flirts with everyone, why she taunts and teases. It’s the thrill. It’s easy.

It feels like work but it never is. It’s all a distraction.

She places her laptop on the side table and peers over at her husband, his face aglow behind his MacBook Pro.

She wonders how he can focus, how he can stare at lines and lines of intricate code every day and rarely get distracted.

Every day between twelve-thirty and one he thuds down the stairs and into the kitchen for lunch.

She’s sitting at the kitchen island, sprawled with notebooks and pens and markers and her computer, closed and off to the side.

He’s finished a day’s worth of work and she’s just getting started.

After lunch, he’ll go back upstairs and finish tomorrow’s work.

After lunch, she’ll peck away at a keyboard for twenty minutes, then remember that there was laundry to start, then the lunch dishes to do. By the time she’s done with those she finds herself cleaning bathrooms. Halfway through the bathrooms the alarm sounds from her iPhone to pick her youngest up from school.

Her day is over and she wrote for twenty minutes.

The house is clean. The dishes are done. The laundry is in the dryer.

And she wrote four-hundred words that will sit in a Scrivener page for months before she touches them again.

All in a day’s work.