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Writings by Jan Neiman

I’m Afraid

It’s a foolish fear.

At least I’m hoping it is, but can’t stop obsessing.

The worst is not really that awful and yet, for me, it would be.

I could have halted the angst, the fear, if I’d never purchased it.

But then, I’d never know.

And it might be okay, it might.

Sometimes, I awake and pound out thoughts that escaped sleep.

In the morning I read what I wrote.

Sometimes it’s good, usually not, but it was an idea.

There are always ideas.

Loose papers overflow my card table.

Notes piled on a TV table spill to the floor.

If I plunk my coffee cup there, I knock it off.

It’s a terrible place to write, but ideas fly to me.

There are always ideas.

Tomorrow the new desk arrives.

It will have nooks, large expansive surfaces, a magnificent work station.

A writer dreams of such a desk.

But will I be creative when my space is pristine?

Will I sit at my desk and grasp for ideas that refuse to surface?

Tomorrow the new desk arrives.

I’m so afraid.

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 Eye Drops

“Now look, I need one drop twice a day, then the other kind four times a day. You’re supposed to wait one to three minutes between drops. OK?”

“All right; here goes. Hold still! You’ve got to keep your eye open. Quit twitching!”
”I can’t help it. Can’t you just put the drop in the corner and let it seep in?”
 

“I’ll try that. There, I think I got it. Now you need two drops of the other kind?”
“Just one drop, but wait a minute between the two drops.”
 

“You told me two drops of this other stuff and wait four minutes.”
“I did not! I said one drop twice a day of the first kind and one drop of this other kind four times a day.”
 

“No you didn’t! “
“Yes, I did. You weren’t listening! You aren’t paying attention.”
 

“I know what I heard. You always do this. You say one thing and then you insist you said something else”
“This is so typical. You just hear what you want to hear and tune everything else out. Just like the directions to my mother’s house last week.”
 

“What are you talking about? I know how to drive to her house?”
“Yes, but she was telling you about construction on her street, and when I reminded you when we got there you said no one had mentioned street work.”
 

“Well, what difference did it make? We drove around the barricades and didn’t fall into a hole or anything, did we?”
“No! But the car looked like it went through a dust storm. We also found out later we lost a wheel cover. You don’t remember that?”
 

“You have a memory like a steel trap; and, by the way, you don’t always hear what I’m saying either.”
“Like what?”
 

“Like last week when I asked you to pick up my prescription at the pharmacy and you came home with face cream and no prescription.”
 

“Well, I went back for it, didn’t I? ....and at least that wasn’t as bad as you continually misplacing your car keys and everyone having to tear around the house looking for them.”
“That happens so seldom; it isn’t worth mentioning. You don’t have that problem because you haul around that suitcase you call a purse stuffed with every unnecessary piece of junk.”
 

“You didn’t think it was so unnecessary when you cut your finger and needed a bandage! Also, not to mention the cough drops when you hacked away at the concert, and may I add, who always need to borrow my pen to jot something down. Huh?”
“That’s piddly stuff; doesn’t matter one bit. I don’t forget nearly the stuff you do and the stuff you forget is a whole lot more important!”
 

“What stuff?’
“Well, like the time we were half-way home from church and you had forgotten to retrieve David from the nursery? How could you forget your own child?”
 

“Well, for heaven’s sake, you didn’t remember either, as I recall. One of the other kids noticed he was missing.”
“It’s the wife’s job to keep track of the children.”
 

“Just who made that rule? Besides I happen to think that was a very predictable mistake. It had been five years since we had a baby and we weren’t conditioned to picking up a child from the nursery again.”
“You have to admit it was pretty embarrassing! Those nursery mothers gave us some pretty odd looks!”
 

“Don’t talk to me about embarrassing! What about last Sunday’s Christmas Eve service when you opened your big mouth coming out of church and began talking about the terrible trumpet player?”
 

“He was terrible. If someone’s that bad he shouldn’t volunteer to play at a service; and besides, I had no idea he was walking right behind us.”
 

“Well, I could have crawled into a hole. I suppose we’ll have to look for another church.”
“See? There you go exaggerating again. You make such a big deal over little things.”
 

“Oh. Really? Well, let’s see if I can make a big deal over big stuff. For instance, just who wrote that check for $465.00 to the furniture store instead of $46.50 and didn’t notice it until it came through from the bank with the other monthly checks? Just who? Not me!! And there was no rectifying that!”
“For crying out loud, it’s not as though I did it on purpose!”
 

“You mean I do stupid stuff on purpose? I don’t think so. You can’t think of one thing I did that was intentionally dumb.”
“Oh, yes I can. What about your first pregnancy, or the second, or third, or fourth? Not to mention five years later, the fifth? We’re not even Catholic, for God’s sake! No one has five kids anymore! So, what happened there?”
 

“How could you bring that up? I wasn’t the only participant involved in that. Say, how many minutes have passed since the first eye drop?”
“About two; ready for the other eye drop?”
“OK. Want to go out for breakfast afterwards?”
“Sure; sounds good.”
 

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