I am in constant pursuit of metaphors.
I wish they would come more easily to me.
I admire, worship and adore people who know what they are, where they are and how to use them to get maximum effect when writing.
But all too often I find that they escape me. Not that I'm not on the look out, but I do have a lot to learn.
Yesterday morning, I think I struck gold.
The day before, responding to my father's request for something to help him sleep, I went into the far reaches of our linen closet, to the place where the box marked "RX medications" is located, back there behind the box marked "OTC medications" (once a nurse, always a nurse).As I went through little plastic bottles of various and sundries left over from my mom's illness, I opened the stash of Zoloft, the little blue, oval shaped anti-depressants that I thought Dad might need some time in the near future. I sealed it back up after my inspection and identification of the contents and went on to locate the bottle that held a stash of Ambien, the sleep medication. I filled the prescription and put it all away for now.
A stick vacuum, one that I used to put to work every day before it started to lose its oomph, still remains in a charger in our Pond Room. I hardly ever use it now that I have a more efficient version, but we keep it charged and once in a while, we give it a whirl as I did yesterday. It has seen better days and the sounds it emits, low-pitched groans tell us that it is not really picking much up.
I turned it on, allowed it to take it's time as it glided over the wood floor, first in the area of the linen closet, on to the rest of the little hallways and then to the living room for a quick spin, hoping to collect some tiny bits of debris from the previous evening's fire in the fireplace. The motor was starting to sound tired, as if the battery was already wearing down. One more area, a few more tid bits to suck up. And, as I made this one final demand, it started to rebel the way those stick and hand held vacuums do.
Instead of picking up........it spit out......a Zoloft.
Back on to the charger it went.
I wish they would come more easily to me.
I admire, worship and adore people who know what they are, where they are and how to use them to get maximum effect when writing.
But all too often I find that they escape me. Not that I'm not on the look out, but I do have a lot to learn.
Yesterday morning, I think I struck gold.
The day before, responding to my father's request for something to help him sleep, I went into the far reaches of our linen closet, to the place where the box marked "RX medications" is located, back there behind the box marked "OTC medications" (once a nurse, always a nurse).As I went through little plastic bottles of various and sundries left over from my mom's illness, I opened the stash of Zoloft, the little blue, oval shaped anti-depressants that I thought Dad might need some time in the near future. I sealed it back up after my inspection and identification of the contents and went on to locate the bottle that held a stash of Ambien, the sleep medication. I filled the prescription and put it all away for now.
A stick vacuum, one that I used to put to work every day before it started to lose its oomph, still remains in a charger in our Pond Room. I hardly ever use it now that I have a more efficient version, but we keep it charged and once in a while, we give it a whirl as I did yesterday. It has seen better days and the sounds it emits, low-pitched groans tell us that it is not really picking much up.
I turned it on, allowed it to take it's time as it glided over the wood floor, first in the area of the linen closet, on to the rest of the little hallways and then to the living room for a quick spin, hoping to collect some tiny bits of debris from the previous evening's fire in the fireplace. The motor was starting to sound tired, as if the battery was already wearing down. One more area, a few more tid bits to suck up. And, as I made this one final demand, it started to rebel the way those stick and hand held vacuums do.
Instead of picking up........it spit out......a Zoloft.
Back on to the charger it went.
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