Waiting for the clothes to Wash

I will let you in on a little secret. I am motivated to write at this very moment. I have purpose and a set amount of time that I must fill with writing. My motivation stems from a basic need, an understanding that this is the perfect time to put fingers to the keyboard composing myself and my imaginings into words on a screen. So much for pen to paper though there is much to be said for the intimacy of handwriting out sentences, page after page.

My purpose, my motivation for writing at this very moment hinge on one thing. I am waiting for the clothes to finish washing. Yep! There is a deep wisdom to ponder in that motivation. Creativity birthed out of a common, ordinary load of clothes slushing around in water and soap. Many are the times I have waited for the last spin of the washing machine drum. Waiting for excess water to spin out of the clothing. Waiting. Waiting. Perhaps I could do a spoof on a Stephen King novel using the droning of the machine as it spins on and on and on in a seemingly endless cycle. I, waiting, believing at any minute the cycle will end and I will have relief from the sound of the ceaseless spin. Tortuous spin. The dryer sits quietly waiting for clothing to dry. The spin cycle continues. My eyes are weary from staring into space waiting, my lips are parched with thirst. Yet, the source of all this.....WHAT...quiet? Is this a trick? Am I being lulled into a false sense of relief? Will the monsterous machine start up again when I begin to approach it? I feel a dread, a doubt that the spinning has ceased. Listen! No sounds from the hall. No gears changing for re-engagement. I feel ecstatic. I have won over the spinning cycle. I can now move to the drying cycle. The heat will build. The clothes will begin to dry. I will go to bed.

Phew! Eternity was only five minutes! How subtle eternity must be to hide itself within five minutes.