Imagination. I’ve been thinking about it since watching Anne of Green Gables. I admire her devotion to it, and of course, her skill.  It might be a good thing to be more imaginative. It would certainly be easier to write interesting stories if I exercised my ability to think outside of the normal. I tried it recently to see if my mundande, everyday life would take on a new excitement.

For instance, one day at work I entered the bathroom to prepare some equipment and noticed a syringe on the counter.  We use them a lot to hold alcohol or peroxide to clean equipment.  On closer examination this syringe had something dark in it.  Strange I thought. As I worked my attention wandered back to the syringe and then my imagination kicked in.  The dark thing had legs and was really quite large.  It looked like a roach, in fact, it was a roach.  How desperate it must have been to have crawled somehow into that really tiny space. Roaches are ancient insects with a survival rate like no other.  Did this one know he was doing something stupid from which he would never recover? Did he do it on a dare? Did someone leave this item on the counter for me to discover with or without a roach in it?  Let imagination run.

So how much of this is factual?  All of it so far.  I haven’t written the imaginative part yet.