this is not an excuse, just an example of how i am sidetracked from writing.

yesterday i was sitting on the couch trying to rearrange a few words in my mind.
sometimes getting one line just the way i need it to be can make the rest of the poem write itself.
so, i'm sitting there. it was very quiet because all of the doors and windows were shut against the chill. i could almost reach out and grab those few words when layla comes prancing in with this teeny, teeny little mouse(and i mean teeny even for a mouse). layla had her head held high and was as proud as could be seeing as how she and bob had been stalking something the night before.
me, i just looked at this tiny little limp body and told layla to put it down(i figured i'd dispose of the poor thing before she decided to get all hannibal lector on it.)
she looks at me, pauses, drops the mouse which wasn't dead after all.
it starts dashing around with layla bopping it like a hand ball and bob watching.
i'm yellimg for her to stop, and the mouse scoots into the kitchen and under an old carpet sweeper that i had standing in a corner. it's one of those old 50's type metal bissel push thingys. good for quick little pick ups, no motor deals.
this then, bob decides is HIS job. bob is the muscle of the team. (they do operate as a team)layla is the quicker of the two but bob will push things out of the way or get doors opened etc.
well he is shoving this thing and banging it inch by inch from the corner.
so i, being the loon that i am(i realise this, believe me, i do!)
i put bob into the other room, shut the door and go over to the sweeper. the poor little intended victim by this time had crept into the sweeper so i picked up the sweeper and put it outside. hopefully the little critter left. then i let bob and layla back in the room. they are used to me by now and went back to lounging in a patch of sunlight as they usually do at that time of day.
so the words were lost and the poem not started. like i said, not an excuse just an explanation.