Dear Reader,
Welcome, Dear Reader, to another episode of “All over the place,” blog edition.
First of all, Word Raccoon and I had our yearly eye exam today. She told everyone going in that if she didn’t need new glasses, she didn’t want new glasses, because she still lurves her old ones.
She didn’t need new glasses. Whew.
That gorl gets easily attached. Maybe too easily attached?
Once there, she had to fill out fiddly paperwork and we KNOW how she feels about that. She scribbled her responses and wondered just why, when she has been coming to this office for two decades, she is being asked for her name and birthdate, etc.
She briefly wondered what would happen if she refused to fill it out.
This is compounded by the fact that she has two medical scans back to back tomorrow and she had to check in on the app separately for both, answering the same dang information. And they’re both at the same facility!
When she gets there, they will ask for some of the same information. Again.
What if she just refuses to answer it again, asking them to refer to their records?
What if we all did that?
We should.
WR says she might. Bureaucracy is the thief of creativity.
Then she received ANOTHER text asking her to check in for tomorrow’s appointments, though she knows she already did! That she refuses to do.
Anywho, as WR always does when faced with transitions (the closing of the café), she is still sorting and cleaning with a side now of writing.
She didn’t get things to the curb yesterday, though she did today. One neighbor grabbed onto the humidifier, while another texted Barry to ask if the lamp was still available and if I would hold it for him (I put it by his garage, gladly.).
A young man stopped and picked up the desk chair, and I almost cried with relief. It’s hard to let go of things that have helped you create whole worlds, even when you have something better to sit in, so to speak. I’m so glad the old one is going to live a proper second life. Or I assume it is.
The desk, which was more difficult to lug out to the tree, WR really hopes someone takes, though it is cheaply made. It has done its duty.
Because WR made the mistake (?) of watching another Space Maker Method video while eating breakfast, she spent three timers (so she wouldn’t be late for her eye appointment) sorting the pantry.
Again, this is totally related to “I guess I will need to be in my space more because of the café closure and also, weather incoming too soon and now how can a raccoon tolerate being closed in?”
The good news is, there are two bags of culled cabinet items to deposit in the community pantry at our local library when I get a chance.
The bad news is, WR has an ache in her heart and throat. She doesn’t know what comes next. Where is her writing home to be? Why does everything have to change?
I must confess that the naughty animal stuck her middle finger up when she went past the café and saw the “For Sale” sign up. How can they be doing that so soon? Do they have no decency?
She has written on her novel for a bit today, and she wants to do more, but she’s restless. She’s assessing whether she ought to go to the gym because probably furniture-to-the-curb wrestling counts, and yet I have a feeling this raccoon needs to go burn off some grief.
On the positive side, the present-day timeline of the novel is allowing me to apply a layer of language now, though thinly. So I know it can be done, will be done. I still hope to finish a tight-ish draft by year’s end.
And, tbh, it’s the end of September. Only two more days to submit to particular journals and fellowships. I may well balance writing with that over the next two days as a transition.
WR: long rambling post.
Everyone else:…
Who knew raccoons were so emotionally fragile, LOL?
But the mums are gorgeous.
Drema