
Writer’s
Digest Chronicle’s Winner
December
2005
The Switch
By Felice Prager





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
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?
Felice
Prager is a freelance writer from
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