Many writers keep cats, my two tap my leg, “interrupting” my work about every fifteen minutes and for several hours every day. They want me to follow them to their food bowls. It appears they want me to notice they’ve eaten the top three pieces of dried food off their stack and want at least three pieces replaced. I wonder, though, if they aren’t simply saying, “I love you; please notice me.” They’re also a joy and I write and illustrate books and paint so much better when I’m happy.

Poor John. He and I speak of deep things, and as we come to a stop he leaves to bring a few more bags of groceries in from the car. I, with my back turned, put carrots in the frig and make a further comment on the afore mentioned conversation, so John, who’s reached the front door again, turns on his heal and returns to the kitchen. I repeat my great insight. He listens, makes a comment and leaves, which reminds me of something, so I verbalize my thought as I fold a paper bag. He returns from the front door again, because he didn’t hear this one either. We talk and he leaves. I have a completely new insight! John returns having never even touched the front door knob. It’s a good thing he didn’t buy ice cream.
When he’s finally successful at bringing in another bag I say, “It’s unfortunate for you that I like you so much!” He looks confused not exasperated. “If I didn’t LIKE you so much,”  I say, “I wouldn’t be so GREATLY INSPIRED or have so much to say or be such a nuisance!” He laughs, understanding his great value.
I wonder if God is more productive the MORE we interrupt him.  nancymauerman.com