I have been encouraged by the other writers in group to hurry and continue with the next chapter/sequence of this strange little bird of a story. I have the first taste of an idea, but I’m a bit nervous about trying to pin it to the board just yet.
It’s hardly even breathed in the chloroform. So I think I will give it a minute to stiffen up and just write about me instead. Because I come to you in my usual state: light as a feather, stiff as a board.
Certain issues continue apace. In one quick swell, the wave drew back and splashed me out to sea. I have good faith estimates on when I will be allowed to take one step towards made good that I did not have to solicit. I also have problems that have also arrived hand in hand with solutions and these solutions include calling earnest sounding experts of the masculine persuasion to fix one stage of this unending fuckery. It was flirting, maybe, (in case you, dearest K might be reading this), in the briefest, most professional fashion. Don’t even know if he’s married, don’t even know if he’s gay, could be that he is an octogenarian with the voice of a twenty-five year old (looked him up, he’s cute as a button but clearly about forty)…it doesn’t matter at all as he lives well away from me.
At group tonight, the guy who wrote the shit I was less than comfortable with brought something of the usual vein. Which means a good, action-packed (sort of like a pale Tom Clancy novel that isn’t aware of itself like it should be) story with a beginning, middle, and end. Stuff I could find lots to like in. At any rate, he asked me as he always does about the projects I have on the boil and where things are and asks why I don’t take a week off to write on them. It is easy when you are retired to just write until your fingers fall off, apparently, but it isn’t a terrible idea given this backlog of vacation hours I have. I’m actually kind of contemplating it.
But would I actually write? I’m not sure I would right now. So. Maybe just another one of those bad ideas that would be good if I’d hold still and let them be good.
The driving was much better. It is such a matter of exposure and practice. Having a recent muscle memory of being behind the wheel and taking the turns helps tremendously. It continues to always be possible. It is so rarely completely impossible. So rarely important to be perfect.
Eating…less so. The not being able to go buy food has not, apparently, stopped me from going to buy food. After eating a tiny lunch, and drinking coffee for breakfast, I basically dug up all my loose change and bought myself a decaf macchiato at the Starbucks for group, and then another purse dive got me the pizza that swallowed the rest of the days calories and a sliver over that I may not exercise back tonight. Heaven forfend…not so diety, but it was 10PM and I wanted it and it is not illegal.
I actually do feel shifty about that, but I am glad it is tracked. The scale will punish me if I deserve punishment. I will just have to figure out the next few days and then, perhaps, some breathing room.