Wednesday morning and all is well in the Lost Apartment. We’ve reached mid-week successfully, which is always a plus, and have survived thus far. Yesterday was another good day, in which I got things done. I finished revising the first two chapters of the new work-in-progress, adding about 1500 words in total; the end result both chapters now clock in at a total of eight thousand words combined. I don’t know many words I deleted, though, so I am going to just round it up to 2000 words written over the last two days, which isn’t stellar but isn’t bad, either. I didn’t sleep well again Monday night, but it was better than Sunday’s sleep, so I was dragging by the time I got off work and had to head uptown to get the mail (the new Laura Lippman and Michael Koryta were waiting for me there) and then made some groceries before heading home. I feel very good about this book.
I also am feeling good about writing again. Go figure. I’m kind of enjoying this lessening of my anxiety, too. Being able to breathe, being able to not have to rush through things because there’s so much else to do always, but the truly tragic part is that it took loss for me to slow down and step back away from everything. I know I am in a weird place right now, with the grief, with the acceptance of the realities I’d prefer not to face, but I also don’t think it’s ever a bad thing to be introspective and really think about, well, everything. The work I’ve been doing on the new project is very good, don’t get me wrong; the writing itself is kind of satisfying me in some way it either hasn’t before, or that I simply don’t remember (yay for memory loss!) from before, which is also lovely. In a way, it almost feels like I am discovering a new way to think and process and write? I don’t know what it might be, but I know I am enjoying myself writing in a way I feel like I haven’t in a while.
On the other hand, I could also be completely insane and not remembering anything.
But the absence of anxiety could be what is making the difference. I am anxious about everything–driving, paying the bills, cleaning the house–and it’s also interesting to dissect how being anxious about everything somehow translated into a kind of rigid stance to keep from having anxiety about being an author–not reading reviews, never looking at the reviews posted on Amazon or Goodreads, staying away from things I know will make me feel beaten and utterly defeated. It’s also like finally recognizing and realizing that most of my neuroses are based in anxiety I inherited from my mother has also somehow loosened the power of the anxiety to control and run my life? I was a bit tired yesterday when I got home from work–I am not sleeping as deeply this week as I usually do, but it’s not insomnia so I am not complaining–but I still got the writing done, and did some more dishes, and was going to do more laundry but stopped myself since there wasn’t a full load. Paul was late getting home last night so we didn’t watch much television. Instead, we talked about his trip home to visit his mom (he booked the ticket and will be gone for ten days), the refrigerator issue, and about getting a new cat. We need to get a new refrigerator–ours never fully recovered from the power outage during Ike (or was it Isaac?) in 2008…so we’ve been living with a not fully operational refrigerator for quite some time. (It’s not that bad, only over the last year has it really started having ‘we need to replace this thing’ vibes.) The problem is the kitchen cabinets run above the refrigerator, so there’s only so much room for the height–and of course, I can’t find one anywhere on line that will fit and that I want. I want the freezer on the bottom, since I don’t go into as much I wouldn’t have to bend down as much (aging issue), but those are inevitably an inch or two too tall; I can’t even find one with a freezer on the top that will fit. So, we either have to keep looking, or we need to have those cabinets taken down. I am all about taking the cabinet down–it’s above the refrigerator so it’s impossible to use anyway, and anything in there hasn’t been needed for years so can be tossed out–but I don’t know how easy that would be or what kind of pain in the ass it could be to remove. All I need is a single inch more clearance, and we’d already have a new one. I also managed to get a couple of extra entries done yesterday; one about Nancy Drew and another about writing my book Need.
Tonight I’ll be coming straight home from work, and maybe tomorrow night the same. I’ve a ZOOM meeting tonight, so when I get home I’ll need to put the dishes in the dishwasher away as well as do another load (they’re soaking in the sink now), and then can probably relax for a bit before the call, maybe get my words in for the day as well. Maybe I’ll start another blog essay about another teen sleuth character. Maybe I’ll finish some of these others I’ve already started and have yet to finish. I’m feeling super-productive, and of course once Paul leaves on his trip I’ll have nothing but time on my hands when I am not at the office, so there’s no reason why I can’t get a lot of things done while he’s gone other than pure laziness, which is always a possibility. I’ll also not have a cat to keep me company, which is deeply unfortunate. But I have chores and books to read and things to write, so that I have no excuse other than pure laziness for not getting anything done while he’s gone.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.
Queer and Loathing in America 