
I'm currently recording audio for Iambik for a book called Someday This Will Be Funny by Lynne Tillman. It's a collection of short stories and I'm up to story number 7 in the recording process. Or, at least I thought I was until I sat down to record. Everything was ready -- air conditioning off (George hates this but it's much worse for me), extremely large container of water by my side, netbook for reading the text at the ready, my Blue Yeti microphone safe in it's little foam shack, and here I go...
Not so fast. First, there was the lawn service that roared to life somewhere on my street. It sounded like it was inside the house but I'm pretty sure it was outside. They eventually finished. I managed to record approximately 2 pages when a bird began to sing in the tree outside my closed window. LOUDLY. Later, George asked me if I recognized what kind of bird it was and I guess the look on my face gave him his answer. I couldn't see the bird but I tried knocking on the glass of the window and finally using a kiddy bicycle horn to try to get him to find another tree. He took the hint. THEN the cicadas started. This was in the afternoon -- it wasn't even dark yet. Aren't they supposed to be sleeping (or something) during the day??? I realized I had better close up shop for awhile when visions of the Texas chainsaw massacre movies began going through my head. I was the one with the chainsaw.

There's always tomorrow, right, Scarlett?