Big Stupid Bad Day

Big
Stupid
Bad
Day

Bad
Headache
Bad
Day

Outa
Ink
Bad
Day

Outa
Stamps
Bad
Day

Big
Stupid
Bad
Day

Lost
Ideas
Bad
Day

Forgot
Sunblock
Bad
Day

Phone
Ringing
Bad
Day

Another
Survey
Bad
Day

Deadline
Approaches
Bad
Day

Not
Writing
Bad
Day

Not
Creative
Bad
Day

Nobody
Loves Me
Bad
Day

Big
Stupid
Bad
Day

Furball
Kitty
Bad
Day

Black and
Blue Mark
Bad
Day

Broken
Water Heater
Bad
Day

Sparking
Hairdryer
Bad
Day

Missed

Appointment
Bad
Day

Big
Stupid
Bad
Day

Sneezing
Coughing
Bad
Day

Have a

Fever
Bad
Day

Can't Find

Keys
Bad
Day

Big
Stupid
Bad
Day

Burnt
Dinner
Bad
Day

We Don't
Deliver
Bad
Day

Disgusting

Cold Sore
Bad
Day

Big
Zit
Bad
Day

Watery
Eyes
Bad
Day

Big
Stupid
Bad
Day

The Mailman
Cometh
Bad
Day

No
Check Yet
Bad
Day

Emailed
Accounting
Bad
Day

Be
Patient
Bad
Day

Cost of
Gas
Bad
Day

Tank's

On Empty

Bad

Day

Big
Stupid
Bad
Day

Your Server
Is Down
Bad
Day

Nothing
Fits
Bad
Day

Chocolate
Stains
Bad
Day

White
Carpet
Bad
Day

Big
Stupid
Bad
Day

Evil
Email
Bad
Day

Did My
Taxes
Bad
Day

No
Refund
Bad
Day

We Owe
Plenty
Bad
Day

Big
Stupid
Bad
Day

Eating
Pretzels
Bad
Day

Eating
Pasta
Bad
Day

Eating
Everything
Bad
Day

Big
Stupid
Bad
Day

Flat
Tire
Bad
Day

Waited
An Hour
Bad
Day

Record
Heat
Bad
Day

Bad
Hair Day
Bad
Day

Raining
Buckets
Bad
Day

Roof
Leaking
Bad
Day

No

Repairmen
Bad
Day

Not
Fair
Bad
Day

Back to
Bed
Bad
Day

Big
Stupid
Bad
Day

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Copyright 2001. Felice Prager. All rights reserved. Distribution via linking, mailing list, disk, or any other form is prohibited without permission of the author under U.S. copyright law.

The Switch

My husband says, “Turn it off already!”

I tell him, “They forgot to install an on-off switch when I came off the assembly line.”

He mumbles something about the mold breaking when I fell off the conveyor belt, but soon forgives my inability to stay focused. He sees my shortcomings as a source of income.

The truth is, even if I could turn it off, I don’t know if I would.

At night when I’m in bed, my husband asks, “Are you concentrating, Felice? Are you with me? Are you here?”

I tell him I am. I wave from my corner of the galaxy.

“You’re writing in your head again, aren’t you?” he asks.

I reply, “Faster. Faster. A little to the left.”

The cop says, “Lady, do you know how fast you were going?” I don’t think it would convince a jury of my peers if the officer wrote on the speeding ticket, “Defendant said her mind was going a million miles a minute. She was developing a plot.”

In my house, food is never undercooked, cakes chew like cookies, and I never ask anyone how they want their meat cooked because I cannot guarantee results anyway.

I don’t know what the big deal is. I keep things under control. I pay bills early so they won’t be late. I never miss a deadline. I compensate for my distractions by being incredibly neurotic. My mind may be somewhere else, but my body is in the right place at the right time. I never forget a comma, but sometimes I forget directions or my makeup.

“I couldn’t help it,” I say. “I was writing.”

When my kids introduce me, they say, “This is my mom. She lives on another planet.”

Once my older son said, “This is my mom. She talks to pretend people.” Someone in Hollywood heard it, changed the quote a little and got very rich.

If the conversation is at Point A, I’m at Point K. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. I’ve been told I should pay better attention. I've also been told my segues are indicative of bad manners.

I have a friend who puts up with me. She says I entertain her. When she introduces me, she says, “Felice is somewhat circular in a semi-direct way.” She isn’t offended by my inability to stay on subject.

If you were on the perfect wave, would you stop surfing? If you found a gentle, intoxicating breeze, would you go to the indoor mall? If you were on a swing and you thought you were going to go over the top, would you stop pumping?

I have to go grocery shopping today, but first, I’m going to sit down at the computer for just five minutes. It may be five hours.

Did you say something?

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Writer’s Digest Chronicle’s Winner December 2005

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