Thanks to Veggie Tales, Pandora Toddler Radio Channel, and my uncle butchering the words to the song "Firework" all this last week, I think I would be a very happy camper if music just died.
All of it.
Think about it. I'd never have to sing "Barbara Manatee" during a messy diaper change again, never have to croon "The Wheels on the Bus" over a screaming baby in the car, never have to have the same country song (compliments of my husband) stuck in my head ALL. THE. LIVE. LONG. DAY. ever again.
It would be magical.
And quiet. And maybe, just maybe, I could get some writing done. I could sit down in the silence of nap time and just let the words flow through my fingers without worrying that I'd look down at the screen and see the chorus to "Oh, Where Is My Hairbrush?" written in the dialogue.
B.N. (Before Nathan), I could write all day long. I would wake up, put on some clothes, eat breakfast, start writing, write, write, write, get a sandwich, write, write, write, then have time to work out and take a shower before my husband got home. I'd clear 3000 words in a day and still have had time to do the laundry, make a lasagna and repaint my whole house.
Now, my husband gets home and asks me how my writing went and how much I got done and my answer is usually this: "25 words."
Sometimes, not everything is going to go EXACTLY as it should to lead to the best writing environment out there. Sometimes, you might have to write over the chorus of French Peas singing in your head, might have to shut your eyes to the disaster that is your house and just start pumping out words.
And might I suggest turning on a contemporary station on Pandora Radio?