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  • After a spectacular week crawling around the Canary Islands, I'm home and ready to get back to my screenplay. The problem is that if I sit at home when I get back from a trip, any trip, my attention is tempted by all the things I need to do. So I make a deal with myself: Get done two big things - unpack and grocery shop - then I can go and write at the coffee shop. Normally, it's not too crowded in the late afternoon.

    When I got there yesterday, I found a folk singer had taken the stage in the area where I like to write - in the back by the fireplace. I forgot about this new Saturday afternoon attempt to bring in new customers. He was singing Jimmy Buffet when I got my coffee and sat down at the farthest point away from his speaker. His strumming wasn't so bad, but he couldn't sing to save his life. I settled down and turned up the Brandenburg Concertos on my headset. Settled, I sipped my coffee and waited for my Mac to boot.

    I smiled sweetly and nodded when he made eye contact with me from across the room. (Was it just a little hostile???) Aside from his sound man (loosely defined) I was the only one in the place at that moment. I didn't want to insult him, but Margaritaville is painful enough to listen to when it's sung in tune! Plugged into my music, I worked on my play while he sang. I did clap politely once when I came up for a refill, and I did put a tip in his jar, which I hope he uses it for singing lessons.
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