In Case Anyone Was Wondering...

A bottle of ketchup with a thin but definite layer at the bottom. A knife can touch it, but can't move laterally because of the shape of the bottle. Smacking the bottom dislodges nothing, and a tiny drip of ketchup juice only reminds you of what lies teasingly close.

Attempting to access a website via phone, running into multiple "this app doesn't support that activity" roadblocks, forgetting an old password and/or login name and then running out of battery just when you think you have it figured out. Then having a fairly good idea on how to fix it, but being too frustrated/bored/tired to start over.

When the game of Monopoly has gone on much too long, and you're beyond done, yet one person insists that the game be played to the bitter end. You're sitting on Ventnor Avenue (mortgaged), one Railroad, and Marvin Gardens, you have just enough money to not go bankrupt for at least thirty minutes, and you're having dinner/drinks after the game. You can hear the ice tinkling and smell the food.

Getting in line behind the older lady at the grocery store. You know the one I mean...110 if she's a day, smells like White Shoulders and vanilla, moves at about the pace of a drugged snail. And has coupons. And checks the receipt before she moves. And finds that she was overcharged three cents on Circus Peanuts or tinned pears. And requires the services of three managers and a priest before the three pennies can be refunded. And the countergirl is out of pennies. And there are five people behind you.

Trying to explain the internet to an older person.

Having a younger person explain the internet.

Any airport experience post 9-11.

Walking across a muddy field in rubber boots about half a size too large. One foot rests on an insubstantial pile of muck, sinking slowly into the mire, only to be pulled out with effort. The result is just sludge, and any forward momentum requires pushing through even more glop. After a while it all seems like too much trouble, but now you're too committed to the walk. So you shlorp and gurlunk and floosh your way through, stopping every foot or two to retrieve a lost boot.

Trying to get back to the hotel after New Year's Eve in a large city. Take one step, stand still for three minutes. Take two more steps, stand still for five. Sometimes inspiration strikes, yet to no avail. The taxi you saw turned out to be off-duty, the cozy bar where you thought you could rest for a minute just locked the door, and the subway station that has been a beacon for half an hour has been closed for repairs since yesterday. And you have to pee. Urgently.

Contemplating an event, holiday, or experience that's about six weeks away, knowing that you have to do something difficult and frustrating between now and then. Extra points if the unpleasant task will somehow facilitate the reward.

Trying to repair or replace something involving a spring, more than one latch, and a specific order of events that must be followed in order to make the object work. Without instructions or a diagram. Outside during the summer. With sweat getting in your eyes and something itchy on your back that you can't scratch until you finish.

...that's what writer's block feels like.