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Abstract

e, semi-prone position. One, my favorite, is my ancient, beat-up, overstuffed sofa in the living room, which is small enough to be called <i>living womb</i>. When I sit down, the sofa wraps around me lovingly, encouraging me to spread out and <i>just relax, dear. There</i>’<i>s plenty of time. </i>And I’m down for a 20-minute nap.</p><p id="ce28">My second favorite is out back on the patio, where I have a comfy old lounge chair with a small table for my libation <i>du jour</i>, where I fully recline to allow for the correct positioning of my laptop. Although not as cushy as my sofa, the breeze is fresh, the birds are serenading, and I can hear my neighbor’s white horse chomping on the grass next to my backyard fence.</p><p id="e1c5"><b>I</b>’<b>m ready to write.</b></p><p id="7609">But no. The Little Man in My Head wakes up to announce that I need to do a load of laundry. And when am I going to paint the guest room? My friend will be here next week! And I’m out of butter and won’t be able to scramble eggs tomorrow unless I go to the store. And it’s Friday and <i>is anyone going to Happy Hour later today?</i></p><p id="4db5"><i>STFU, Little Man!!</i></p><p id="8196">For about five minutes, my mind is back on my book. I open the file to the Table of Contents and that’s when Fred, my resident blackberry-thieving iguana, decides to take a sunbath in the tree directly across from where I’m sitting-lounging-dozing-not writing. He’s posing, I’m certain. He might even be flirting with me. I’ve had worse.</p><p id="d1be">Where’s my camera? The light on him is perfect. I want to paint him in watercolors later. The artist’s brain kicks in with composition, pigments, and <i>as soon as I finish this book I</i>’<i>m going to paint this bad boy!</i></p><p id="f03c">Pictures taken, filed away for later use, the clock strikes 11:00 AM. I refill my glass of iced tea and decide to write <i>this </i>piece, just for fun.</p><p id="81c1">I thought, “As soon as I finish this, <i>then</i> I’ll get back to work on that last chapter of my book.”</p><p id="13a9">Unless, that is, something else comes up.</p><p id="0c48">. . .</p><p id="ae58"><b>Much later:

Options

<i> </i></b>Well, friends, with enough<i> poco a poco</i> eventually everything gets done. My book is published and entering distribution! I hope you enjoy my tales and will be inspired to visit this amazing country.</p><div id="d4fb" class="link-block"> <a href="https://a.co/d/j3R21Md"> <div> <div> <h2>The Accidental Expat: A Costa Rican Adventure</h2> <div><h3>The Accidental Expat: A Costa Rican Adventure [Ritchie PhD, Adelia] on Amazon.com. FREE shipping on qualifying…</h3></div> <div><p>a.co</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*bSS8LjbpWOAuIi8Y)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="9db8"><i>¡Pura Vida, everyone!</i></p><div id="e282" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/that-tico-gift-419bf346d060"> <div> <div> <h2>An Unexpected Gift</h2> <div><h3>When a Tico smiles at you, the sun comes out</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*r76aU8MnFdpmKhN0JP3dQw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="7ab5" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-dog-days-of-pura-vida-da1ce2792576"> <div> <div> <h2>The Dog Days of Pura Vida</h2> <div><h3>When you can’t get a damn thing done</h3></div> <div><p>medium.</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*5RcsVYpwsItzgrxOAEVnGQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><figure id="1a4d"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*e0uvA7mc4-3P_tyErcTYPA.png"><figcaption></figcaption></figure></article></body>

TICO TALES

The Accidental Expat

A Writer’s Lament

I used to think I was moving to the ideal location for living the writer’s life. Here in Costa Rica, the weather is always perfect (except when it isn’t), the pace is slow, and nobody seems to worry about anything much.

Here, I can sink into a hammock, laptop in place, and pound on the keyboard all day long without a care in the world. When I started to write this essay, my book was nearly finished, and I just needed to tidy it up and do a final edit before sending it off.

So, why was I stalled at this point for several weeks? Maybe months? Well, for starters, I blame my To-Do List and the out-of-control “Little Man in my Head” who just will not STFU.

Excuses

At 5:11 AM every morning, daylight crawls in on eight hairy legs. I bound out of bed, have a good pee, turn on the coffee, put last night’s clean dishes away, pour myself a cuppa, and crawl back in the sack with my laptop to catch up on the news and emails.

Oh, and Facebook, Substack, Medium, NYT, WaPo, Seattle Times (just for the comics), and whatever messages have come in over FB Messenger, iMessage, Skype, and WhatsApp. I left Twitter a while ago, permanently.

I was so looking forward to finishing that last chapter! But first, I needed to make the bed, water and weed my veggie garden, and scramble some eggs. Brush teeth, take meds, wash face, all that stuff.

Skype wakes up to announce next week’s work meetings. Added to calendar and confirmed. Facebook notifications checked (again).

Oops! Spanish class at 9:00! I’m late! Behind schedule already and the day hasn’t yet gotten underway.

It’s already 10:00 AM

Aside from my office desk, I have two areas where I like to write in a comfortable, semi-prone position. One, my favorite, is my ancient, beat-up, overstuffed sofa in the living room, which is small enough to be called living womb. When I sit down, the sofa wraps around me lovingly, encouraging me to spread out and just relax, dear. There’s plenty of time. And I’m down for a 20-minute nap.

My second favorite is out back on the patio, where I have a comfy old lounge chair with a small table for my libation du jour, where I fully recline to allow for the correct positioning of my laptop. Although not as cushy as my sofa, the breeze is fresh, the birds are serenading, and I can hear my neighbor’s white horse chomping on the grass next to my backyard fence.

I’m ready to write.

But no. The Little Man in My Head wakes up to announce that I need to do a load of laundry. And when am I going to paint the guest room? My friend will be here next week! And I’m out of butter and won’t be able to scramble eggs tomorrow unless I go to the store. And it’s Friday and is anyone going to Happy Hour later today?

STFU, Little Man!!

For about five minutes, my mind is back on my book. I open the file to the Table of Contents and that’s when Fred, my resident blackberry-thieving iguana, decides to take a sunbath in the tree directly across from where I’m sitting-lounging-dozing-not writing. He’s posing, I’m certain. He might even be flirting with me. I’ve had worse.

Where’s my camera? The light on him is perfect. I want to paint him in watercolors later. The artist’s brain kicks in with composition, pigments, and as soon as I finish this book I’m going to paint this bad boy!

Pictures taken, filed away for later use, the clock strikes 11:00 AM. I refill my glass of iced tea and decide to write this piece, just for fun.

I thought, “As soon as I finish this, then I’ll get back to work on that last chapter of my book.”

Unless, that is, something else comes up.

. . .

Much later: Well, friends, with enough poco a poco eventually everything gets done. My book is published and entering distribution! I hope you enjoy my tales and will be inspired to visit this amazing country.