The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.
The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.
This month the words are supplied by Margaret Adamson and friend Sue, and can be found here
This week's words are:
Here is my story:
Wandering sleepily into the kitchen, I emptied out last night’s dregs and started a new pot of coffee brewing. I reached for my favourite mug, then set about exploring the kitchen cabinets for breakfast items. The sugar was easy to find, next to the coffee beans, right where it should be, but the rest of the cabinet contents were jammed in all higgledy-piggledy, put away in a hurry by Gavin when we moved in two days ago.
I’d been thrust unceremoniously into a new position in a new town, when a branch manager died suddenly. I’d applied for the job, but expected a more leisurely induction period, not this baptism style that resembled being thrown in at the deep end of the pool. My predecessor, Natalie Conroy, had simply dropped to the floor one morning while arranging her hair in its customary beehive style. An autopsy had revealed a badly damaged heart, yet her husband Eugene declared she had never had a sick moment for the entire forty years of their marriage.
Being the primary candidate for the job, the “big boss” had phoned me even before the funeral, stating a house had been made available and I should move asap. Gavin sprang into action finding cartons to pack stuff in, hiring a moving truck for the furniture, arranging to have our mail forwarded. He was hopeful that he could also find a new job in a new town, having been ‘let go’ six months before when his company downsized, which is really a fancy word for “we’re going to make our stuff in a cheaper country so we don’t need you anymore’.
As I searched the cabinets, Gavin walked in wearing one of my frilly pinafores and steered me towards the table. “Stop meddling about in my cabinets and sit down,” he said. “I’ve got breakfast all sorted. Contrary to all previously held beliefs, I am not incapable in a kitchen. You just never gave me a chance.”