I haven't looked at my Amazon blog in about a hundred years, for which I'm sorry. Looking at it might have prompted me to post. I've been in Writer Head & dealing with the most personally vicious part of Just This Once. Progress has been steady for two whole days, which is a lot like trying to stick to a food plan -- TWO. WHOLE. DAYS.
Woo-hoo! you think as you go to sleep on Night Two. I can DO this.
Then life interrupts, rudely. We've had ghastly rain, although mild in comparison to the snow Upstate, the mix of atrocities in Cleveland & Pittsburg, & the surfs in Massachusetts. Yesterday this was a good thing. I was boarding a 10-month-old Labby baby named Henry & Daisy didn't so much as consent to stick her neck outside the door, while he didn't do much better. The rain has a soporific effect on them & they were pretty quiet.
Today is Monday, however, with Boomer, Hero, Mellie, and Roger to entertain, as well as Henry's morning with us. It meant bringing the dogs into the Bat Cave, sorted out by who gets along with whom. Back-&-forth & forth-&-back. It's going on 7 & I haven't written a word but I have played some mighty mahjongg today as the fur flew & the stuffing of several plush toys wafted under furniture.
Then there's the little matter of taxes. I overstated what I owe to a friend--it's only $8900, not $10,000. After my feeble enclosures, it's $8500.
How hungry was I when I hung up the phone with my accountant? Ravished. Bring it on!
I haven't brought it on but I am weary. Weary of dogs & stairs, weary of worry, weary of reliving the past & trying to untangle the web of my relapse. I wish I had a wife tonight. She would have cleaned the bathroom, vacuumed up the dog detritus & made something yummy & nourishing for dinner.
Also, we could have filed a joint deduction.
There's some logic in that, which is a little frightening. Men don't need husbands nearly as much as women need wives. Either women should be allowed an extra deduction for unpaid labor or we should become ersatz-Mormons. Put out a faint call -- Bad day -- too tired to do anything -- & suddenly a casserole (without noodles) & salad would appear on one's doorstep.
{Sigh}
Look for more posts here in the future but please don't expect profundidty: I'm saving it for the fucking book.
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4 comments:
That's me in a word: weary. Is it this prolonged winter that's causing everyone to linger in the blahs?
I hope the book is going well. I don't know how you do it with the doggies. We just got two lab babies -- Bruno and Pearl -- and they're every bit as demanding and time- consuming as the human ones, or darn close!
I'll have to send you some pics of the puppies. Bruno's a yellow lab and Pearl is black. They are awfully adorable, when they're not chewing my kitchen to pieces.
We all need wives. Maybe we can mail-order them from some other country.
Will be sure to check here for new posts, but I understand your saving your words for the book.
Jen, too funny about mail ordering a wife.
Frances,
You might go to this essay. (God, I was 12 years old when I first read this. Definite proof my mother never censored my reading material.)
I hope things are better today for you.
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