it’s been a long afternoon. Zach is always a bit nuts when Renee first goes back to work. He’s used to her being off during the weekend, and then off she goes when the work week starts back up. Her first day back is always rough.
Today’s been pouring rain non-stop. This afternoon, after lunch, Zach and I got bundled up and went out into the rain. We stomped around a sidewalk and some forested areas, enjoying the rain. A more or less deserted cul-de-sac across the street has at least a foot of standing water, in places. We threw rocks into it. Well, what else are you going to do?
And then we came back, and he went down for a nap, and I…
…have not done a lot.
what is up the past week or more? It’s troubling. like a switch flipped. I suddenly don’t have the concentration or patience for reading anything new and have suddenly reverted into the “holding pattern” mode I can get into sometimes, where I just read a few old familiar books over and over again (typically Pratchett and Gaiman; this time, it’s Pratchett and Stephen King). I have also almost completely stopped writing. Done maybe a thousand words on chapter 3 of “Save Us” and about 700 words on the novel I’m writing with Sarah Berling.
It’s like a vise. An ineffable vise. Which sounds like the worst pulp novel title in the history of writing, frankly.
I thought I was getting sick, but I don’t seem to be. Or maybe just over-tired, but that doesn’t seem to be it either.
I’m not sure what it is. I’m not enjoying it, that’s for sure.
This mildly angsty post now concludes. Any longer, and I’d have to pay angst-tax on it. Anyway, it’s too vague to actually qualify as full-on angst.
Tea’s up. I can still drink that just fine.