Well, not right now, but a few second ago. Right now I'm writing to you.
So I am sitting here by the window as dusk falls outside, considering our back door neighbors across the street, wondering if they wonder what I'm doing. The lamp is on. If they look out the window, they can see me perfectly in silhouette.
Suddenly, that scene in She's Having a Baby comes to mind. Remember? The balding, beer-belly neighbor asks Kevin Bacon what he's doing all night by the window with his hands? Kevin Bacon (Jake, really) says he's writing a book.
Do the neighbors think I'm writing a book?
Or are so many people glued to their laptops today that I just look like everyone else?
Maybe they're just happy the kids aren't crying in the backyard and the dog isn't barking like she's on fire and that I'm not screaming like CPS-bait?
Maybe I'd rather they think I'm a genius and writing a book.
Maybe I need to close the curtains.