While the writers write, I am comtemplating elsewhere

More coffee, anyone?
Can I interest you in a few triple chocolate cookies?
Don’t mind if I do.
What do you think about the color almond? Or is it auburn?
I forget what L’Oreal calls it.
Do you think these pants are flattering or it is just the weather?
Can you tell my bathing suit is falling slightly apart?
Isn’t it a drag to have your period on vacation? All those white towels.
Does anyone have any nail polish? It’d be nice to do something special for this evening, and I didn’t bring jewelry. Maybe I can borrow something of yours?
Have you noticed I haven’t washed any of my dishes?
I know, it’s crazy, but I figure if I make the drinks, no one will care.
Speaking of drinks, how about something with mango, lime and tequila?
Maybe sooner than later? Maybe before we go down to the beach?
What are you writing about? Why do you look so serious?
Do I look serious? Are you wondering what I’m writing?
Well, don’t worry. It’s just me here. Three cookies to the wind.
Is it already Tuesday? What day is it? Do I have enough sunscreen on?
Is the stock market going to plunge? Is that writing job happening or not?
Hey. Should I make you a drink or a snack or something? You look hungry. Or tired.
I wish I had not cut own hair this last time. Too overzealous with the thinning shears.
Here’s my advice – if you can’t sleep, do not get up and start chopping.
Have someone else, you know, awake. Maybe get another opinion. Check the mirror more often. Maybe just forget the whole thing and make yourself some toast. Finish the book which is taking forever. Think about who you can call on the East Coast or Europe.
Play yet another game of online Scrabble. Why is my vision feeling blurry? Is the sun burning my corneas? Will I have a freaky detached retina in 20 years, like my dad and uncle? Jesus, the things I never even think about. Strange brain malfunctions, lungs collapsing. I mean, when is the last time you thought of ovarian cancer? No one talks about that anymore. It’s all about the breast now. And melanoma. And Splenda. Too sweet, in my opinion. That is not a selling point. Nor is fake butter, which could almost pass except it tastes more like butter than butter tastes like butter. Rice cakes. Cute but empty. A shell of food. How can a person live on these things? Do you have a nail file or some hair product for later, when we’re getting ready? Why does 7-up sound so good right now. Why do I feel like watching Oprah? Have you seen the L Word? Kind of makes you not want to be a lesbian, doesn’t it? Or does it? Who would you be like, Alice or Bette or Shane? Do you find yourself watching a television show and applying it to your own life?
How does Pepperidge Farm come up with all these names. Seville. Milano. Oh, I get it. Italy. But what so Italian about these cookies? If this house were a cookie, what would it be named? Or a bird? Or, I don’t know, a cereal. If this house were a cereal, would you eat it? Wait. Not a cereal. Maybe a blended beverage. Something the bartender could have mixed up yesterday if he hadn’t been so damn grumpy. What was his problem, anyway? He’s in Hawaii for Chrissakes. He could have given us a menu, at least. There were still 20 minutes left ‘til the bar closed. You know what would have been great? If he’d said, anything you want, I can do it. Here, let me give you the 12-ounce cup instead of the 8. You’re my last customers. Seriously, what do you like? Vodka, rum? Something fruity and sweet or fruity and not as sweet. A house as blended beverage. A smoothie, but something islandy. Something having to do with the ocean, or being on the edge, or the view, or whales, or this little sand ducks-birds flitting through the undergrowth. Okay, maybe not those. Those duck birds aren’t very sexy. No one wants to sit by the pool and think of duck birds shitting in the undergrowth, and you know, everyone walks around in sandals here, or barefoot. So, ixnay on the duck bird-ay. What’s for dinner tonight? I do not recognize all these fish names. Maybe they could put something in parentheses? Translations for the mainlanders among us. I wonder what my totem animal is. Would I wear, like, an ivory thing around my neck all the time? Something shaped like that animal, or a breadbasket, or the shape your mouth makes when you’re biting into a lemon. Is there a necklace for that? The time has got to be up soon. Look at them, deep into their laptops, their notebooks. Who wants to go for a swim? What are your thoughts on home coloring jobs? Coffee? One last cookie before I put the bag away? Anyone, anyone?