Word: roomful
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...pulled an old shirt from the brimming laundry hamper to sop up the water on his skin. Then he teetered out to the dining room table and eased himself into the heaped-up clothes he had left there. It took him five minutes to tie the shoelaces. Keys, watch, wallet. The first picture in there was his driver's license, grinning, sun-tanned from water-skiing, so long ago. He flipped the plastic. Oldest son as high school graduate, long gone, ski-bumming in Colorado, a five-minute phone call six months ago was about all. The two girls...
...pulled an old shirt from the brimming laundry hamper to sop up the water on his skin. Then he teetered out to the dining room table and eased himself into the heaped-up clothes he had left there. It took him five minutes to tie the shoelaces. Keys, watch, wallet. The first picture in there was his driver's license, grinning, sun-tanned from water-skiing, so long ago. He flipped the plastic. Oldest son as high school graduate, long gone, ski-bumming in Colorado, a five-minute phone call six months ago was about all. The two girls...
...Cabinet room of his new $15 million royal palace on the Muscat waterfront, Sultan Qaboos bin Said sits on a throne emblazoned with the royal coat of arms, crossed swords held together by a khanjar, the distinctive dagger worn by Omani males. On his desk, along with several folders marked "top secret," is a copy of Jane's Fighting Ships. His headdress is purple silk; his robe is white and partially covered by a black cloak trimmed with gold. At his waist is a khanjar, the hilt marked with a design to be used only by the ruler...
...tall, high-shouldered and middleaged, and who seems sober, gets up from the typewriter and paces about the room. Time passes again, this time into the end zone. Is the writer faltering? No! He finds the thread, and hurriedly types: "Next morning he finds the strange feet still there. 'How's everything, P.B.?' a dozen people ask him before lunch. To each, Sykes replies, 'Fine.' He telephones a doctor. A receptionist says the next available appointment is three months distant. Sykes says he has an emergency. 'What seems to be the trouble?' asks the woman. Sykes cannot tell...
Writing is hard work for him now: "You go into a dark room ind close the door, and you're alone inside your head." One pulls things out of the mental attic to use in the column, he adds, and the attic is depleted. You don't have time to add much to your store. "How many column ideas are there?" he asks. "There's the plumber, and your teenagers, and your car, and your house. If you're really desperate, you can write about your wife, and then it's time to hang up the typewriter...