Not really there

It happens sometimes. The following is an actual conversation. This is what happens to writers when regular life gets intrudes.

Setting: Me and Hub (short for my husband) in the car, pulling into our driveway after several numbing hours in big box stores.

Hub: Did the mail come today yet?
Me: (not really there) I don’t know.
Hub: Today may be some sort of mail holiday. I’m not sure.
Me: (still, not really there) Yeah, I don’t know.
Hub: I saw the neighbors had their flag up.
Me: (finally tuning in, confused) What flag? The American flag?
Hub: (parks the car and makes a face) No, the Iraqi flag they insist on flying. Their mailbox flag. Were you listening?
Me: (laughing) No. No, I was not. I was wondering if people could live on one of the moons of Jupiter. And what they would eat there.”
Hub: (getting the baby out of her car seat) Oh. Okay, then. (pause) Can you grab the diaper bag, please?