Category: chores

Respectable

I don’t think I have ever been a respectable person, at least in terms of what the mores of American culture and society are currently and were in the past. Being born gay took care of that; coming out finished off any chance I may have ever had at being respectable to a vast swathe of my fellow Americans. Fortunately for me, at a certain point in my life I stopped caring what those people thought–I mean, tell me not to rub your nose in my sexuality and I’ll rub your entire fucking face in it, thank you very much–and while I do care about the opinions of those I genuinely consider friends…why would I care if you don’t matter to me? I have always been a pleaser–which was part of the gut reaction to having people ghost me when I was a kid, while harboring a secret I was certain would make everyone turn on me should they ever find out, so I worked even harder at pleasing people because I wanted to be liked. It’s also incredibly annoying to know this about yourself, and yet you constantly and consistently hear yourself agreeing to do things you don’t want to do because you want the person to like you or you don’t want to disappoint someone.

Although it is obvious people don’t mind disappointing you.

As though friendships should be transactional; or measured in terms of favors granted and help given. I try not to be transactional with my friends or writers I like; I promote authors whose books I enjoy and, if I do know them, I like. I generally won’t read books by people I’ve met that I’ve disliked because inevitably my personal antipathy inevitably bleeds over into the book. I know it shouldn’t; the work should stand on its own. Patricia Highsmith was a dreadful, horrible person, but the bitch could write and I love her books. I guess it helps that she’s dead? I’m sure if I had the misfortune of knowing or interacting with any number of writers I greatly admire that are now deceased I wouldn’t admire their work quite so much anymore; Highsmith was horrible, and apparently Daphne du Maurier wasn’t exactly a charmer, either.

But I am finding now that I am getting up in years I am not all that terribly concerned with pleasing people anymore. After all, as I said, if I say no to something and that means that person asking won’t like me, so be it. Sure, I want you to buy my books and I want you to like them enough to keep reading and buying more of them as they come out…but I don’t need you to like me, if that makes sense? Probably not. I would never be rude to a reader of mine, and I try not to be rude to potential readers…but sometimes I am just okay with some people not finding joy or pleasure or comfort in my work.

I was a reader long before I was a writer, although I started writing very young. I was thinking about this the other night–how my identity is so entrenched in being an author (or writer, whichever you prefer, although I think there is a distinct difference between the two–but I was a reader first; and I will always be a reader–I’ll keep reading long after I stop writing; I’ll read as long as my eyes work and even if they should cease to work there’s audiobooks so I never ever have to give up on reading. For me, as a lonely child who was very well aware he wasn’t normal or like other kids (boys or girls), books opened the world to me. I could escape my horrible reality into the wondrous world of a fictional universe where the characters were like my friends and the bad guys were my enemies but it was okay because they wouldn’t win in the end. When I talk about retiring with people who’ve already retired and they knowingly tell me with that nod of the head that I’m going to be bored…it’s all I can do not to laugh. I’m never bored when I am at home. There’s always another book to read, after all; my apartment is filled with books I’ve not yet read; I’ve slowly but steadily broken the hoarding impulse so when I finish a book I donate it to the library sale or give it away to a friend; I realized the other night that holding onto books you’ve already read is kind of like holding them hostage when they could be giving someone else the same (if not more) amount of joy and pleasure the book gave me–and inevitably, the ones I’d like to keep forever to reread at some point (or study the art and work that went into its creation), well, at some point it’ll be on sale for Kindle for ninety-nine cents and I can store lots of books in my iPad…more than I can store in my apartment for sure.

It grieves me when I get home from work and I can’t spend the hour or so decompressing from the day with a book–usually because there is stuff I need to do or I am too tired to focus. I picked up the mail yesterday on the way home–nothing of import, but a thank you card I sent to a friend was returned because the stamp had come off (stupid forever Star Wars stamps), and some more sympathy cards. I was doing quite well with sending my thank you’s in response, but kind of fell off and now things are getting lost in the “to be filed’ inbox. I guess I can spend some time looking for the cards I need to respond to while filing and getting organized. I slept really well last night–Scooter only woke me up once or twice with his howling–so I feel better than I have all week. The toe is still throbbing but the swelling has gone down (naturally, since I made an appointment to see my doctor next week; but I have a picture of what it looked like when swollen). We were also really busy in clinic yesterday, which was actually a good thing; it’s been a while since we saw that many people in one day, and today looks to be about the same, which again–it’s a good thing. I’m also managing to stay on top of my day job duties outside of seeing clients, which is also a good thing.

I’ve also started pulling together another short story collection; pulling the stories into a single document. I don’t have enough completed and/or published stories to fill out the book, I don’t think; but I have a significant amount and would only need to finish writing a few more to have a collection complete–or I could finish a novella to fill out the book. I did work on a short story last night for an anthology, but am not entirely sure it’s a good fit for them. I am going to read it one more time before sending it off to the editor (along with a it’s okay if you don’t want this because it’s a stretch for the call; let me know if it doesn’t work and I’ll send something else note); I was trying to finish another story that did work for the call but I just can’t get the fucking thing to come together for me, which is, of course, incredibly annoying. I also found a great title yesterday–“To Mourn a Mischief”, isn’t that a terrific title? I don’t have a story to go with it, of course–at least, not yet–but that’s a terrific crime story title, methinks; probably would need to be about kids or teenagers.

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.

Can’t Stop the World

Monday morning has rolled around again and I am up before the sun rises yet again. Neither brain nor body wanted me to get up and heed the siren song of the alarm, but there was no escaping the inevitably of getting up and heading into the office yet again. Yesterday was a mixture of days; I got things done in the morning but after making groceries, I was oddly tired and physically exhausted. I did manage to read a few more chapters of Cheryl Head’s marvelous Time’s Undoing, which is very good and I’m enjoying it a lot, even as I wince at the past sections set in 1929, at its unerring and accurate depiction of the Jim Crow South. I honestly, as a Southern man, see no problem with reading about Southern history accurately; and certainly, seeing Jim Crow through the eyes of people of Color is a reminder than no matter how bad I may have thought things were, it still wasn’t a reality I would have had to either face or deal with, and it was so much worse than I can ever imagine it–and I have a very vivid imagination. Yesterday’s exhaustion was unexpected and out of nowhere, particularly coming in the wake of two pretty good days and a good morning as well. But grief is sneaky like that, is never linear, and can literally come from nowhere. There’s also the issues involved with my bout of long COVID from last summer and how my energy levels have never really recovered from that, either.

And don’t even get me started on the memory issues.

I am hopeful for a good week; I know I’ll eventually start experiencing being tired from exerting myself at work; it’s interesting that someone with shyness issues like me has wound up working as a counselor–but one-on-one and with a purpose to the conversation makes it much easier than having a conversation with someone I’ve just met at a party. Small talk is literally my Kryptonite, and of course, being socially awkward is my lifelong jam.

I did rewatch Mildred Pierce last night on TCM after Paul went to the office, and once again I marvel at what a terrific film it was–melodramatic and over-the-top, for sure, but the addition of the murder rescued the movie from not working. I need to reread the book–it’s been a hot minute–but the one thing I’ve never really gotten from either is a sense of who Veda is and why she is the way she is; spoiled and rotten and manipulative. In order for Cain to get his point across about Mildred and her own obsession with mothering, Veda turns out to be horrible and one-dimensional; everyone sees that Veda is horrible except Mildred–obsessed with being the perfect mother and giving Veda everything, it’s also a smothering, all-encompassing kind of love that most teens would rebel against and struggle to get away from. I remember about ten years ago I wanted to write Veda’s point of view; either a retelling of the story from her point of view or a sequel to the novel (no murder, remember?) which picks up with Veda some years later, having parlayed her singing and musical talents into a film career. That’s one of the things I love the most about Cain’s work, really; so much can be read into it, and so many great ideas can be inspired by rereading his work. I’ve not read the entire Cain canon–that “never want to run out of books to read by any author” thing I struggle with–but I’ve read quite a bit. Chlorine is really my first real attempt to write a noir; I cannot wait to get back to work on that. It’s already been delayed for far too long, and once i get through these contracted books, Chlorine is going to be my focus.

Finally, right? LOL. But I do eventually get around to the projects I talk about writing for years, don’t I? I talked about the Kansas book for well over a decade before #shedeservedit saw print.

I think today is going to be a good day. I feel rested this morning, and I slept really well. The toe is still twinging; I am beginning to suspect it really is gout. I went to WebMD (which I always tell my clients not to do) and the list of foods to avoid? Everything I eat, basically. So, I am going to have to bite the bullet, schedule an appointment with my doctor, and get on with things, you know? I don’t why I’ve dithered and dicked around about this for so long, either. Just another thing I didn’t want to have to deal with so I kept kicking the can down the street, which isn’t wise. Nothing ever fixes itself, you know; a lesson I keep having to relearn over and over again. I also need to schedule an appointment with the hearing specialist, a dentist, and make an eye appointment while I am at it. Yay. But I need to start and keep up with all this routine maintenance, especially if I want to start going back to the gym in April. I also need to start doing push-ups, crunches, and stretch every day too. Maybe I will climb back on that horse this evening when I get home from the office; stranger things have happened in the past and will probably continue into the future as well. The kitchen is a mess, too; I made dinner last night, so when I get home tonight I’ll have to clean the kitchen again and maybe even get the rest of the straightening up taken care of as well. I am definitely going to be taking books to the library sale this coming Saturday, and I also want to wash the car this weekend and vacuum it all out. I also want to spend some more time with Cheryl’s book this evening. So, so much to do and work on and get done. I also have to start preparing for moderating panels for the two Festivals coming up in a couple of weeks…yikes.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Hope you have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.

This Town

And here is it Sunday.

I woke up yesterday around eight, with the positive attitude I went to bed with on Friday night virtually intact. I felt very rested and ready to go, and it was lovely to come downstairs to a kitchen/office that was already very well organized and not needing a whole lot of additional work to look, you know, presentable, which was very lovely. I made myself coffee, posted yesterday morning’s blog, and then spent some time cleaning out my inbox and writing emails to send off on Monday morning (I do not send emails on the weekends; emails beget emails and the weekends are, at least in my case, about multi-tasking and getting things done as well as getting rested, and emails are always a stressor.) I was also quite pleased with the job I had done on the living room as well; it still needed some more work, but the Lost Apartment is starting to look…habitable again? I know, I know, stop that crazy talk already, right?

I also ordered our new dryer, which will be delivered and installed on work-at-home Friday, thus ending the dryer drama that’s been going on for well over a month or so; I think it started when I got home from Wetumpka? I don’t know, but I think that’s what happened–the load of clothes I took to Alabama that weekend wouldn’t dry, and that was that. I also realized that this past weekend was the first weekend this year I’ve had a chance to really relax. In January I was killing myself writing a manuscript, then I turned that in and went to the library events in Alabama that weekend, and then of course the Mom stuff started. I was actually in New Orleans last weekend, but I was still dealing with the initial shock and loss after the funeral that weekend. This was my first kind of free weekend this year. Yesterday morning I spent some time reading Cheryl Head’s new release (it’s very good, for the record), and then spent some time on my own work for a while. I also cleaned and organized and filed a lot, too. Today I have to make groceries, but am probably going to do that this morning after perhaps a second cup of coffee, primarily to get it out of the way more than anything else. I have a lengthy to-do list for today as well, and hope to get some decent reading time in, too. (Hilariously, I looked at the delivery window for the dryer and it’s 7 am till 9 pm–now that is a delivery window!)

I feel well rested this morning. I was dozing off in my easy chair last night around nine, and while it was still relatively early, decided you might as well go ahead and go to bed if you’re falling asleep rather than stay up just to stay up, and there was definitely some wisdom in that thought so I went up to bed around nine thirty. I think my body clock has sadly, and finally, shifted to being used to getting up early and going to bed before ten. This is not something I am thrilled about, I must add. But it’s life, one supposes, and must adjust accordingly. I must say I miss the days when I could sleep until noon. But those days are long in the past now, I am afraid. I like this make a to-do list for every day of the weekend thing I started this weekend; I made a list yesterday morning of the things I wanted to get done yesterday; I got most of them done, and so hence I made a similar list of the things I want to get done today, which will then extrapolate into the to-do list for the rest of the week. I’m getting organized again, people–and I think what I was actually feeling yesterday was the relief of feeling almost on top of everything again for the first time since 2020.

I also finally watched All That Jazz last night, at the suggestion of a friend, and I have to say I was a lot more impressed with the movie than I thought I would be. I wasn’t much into Bob Fosse when I was younger. It took me several viewings before I finally saw Cabaret for what it was–and I don’t think it was a coincidence that it took the 2016 election before I realized and recognized the movie’s message and came to appreciate it as the classic it actually is. (I also greatly enjoyed Fosse/Verdon when it aired.) Who knows? Maybe in my old age I am finally beginning to appreciate musicals? This morning I am going to enjoy my coffee for a bit, read for a little while and then make that grocery run to get it over and done with, then coming back home to put the food away and get cleaned up and take a shower and get back to work. I do have a load of laundry to wash here and then lug over to the carriage house to dry (the last time I will have to do this, huzzah). I also have a bit more organizing and filing that can be done (my computer files are an epic disaster area and probably always will be), and there’s always cleaning that can be done. I need to pack another box of donations for the library, and probably need to clean out some more beads to be donated, which I’ve been meaning to do since last Mardi Gras; as always, there’s always plenty of things that need to be done around here. I also framed some things that should be hung at some point, if only I knew where to put them. And if the weather’s nice next weekend, maybe I can do the windows? It’s been years since I’ve cleaned the windows, or so it seems.

And on that note, I am going to go read for a bit while elevating and icing my toe, which still aches a bit. I hit it accidentally yesterday when moving one of the trash bins alongside the house and holy Mother of God did that hurt like a motherfucker. I’m beginning to think it is gout. But one of the things I need to put on the list for this week is getting in touch with my doctor about the toe. Who knew gout was even still a thing? I assumed it was something we had renamed or something, but no, it’s still a thing, just not as common as it used to be. And apparently one of its triggers is emotional stress. Gee, wonder if I’ve had anything like that lately? Heavy heaving sigh. But I’d like to at least get this taken care of before Saints and Sinners, you know?

And on that note, I am repairing to my easy with Cheryl’s book and an icepack and the pillows needed to elevate said foot. Have a great Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.

Automatic

Friday and working at home. I slept in a bit–almost to eight–but of course, the primary problem of getting up at six four mornings per week has of course trained Scooter that he gets breakfast at six every day, so at six every morning if he hasn’t been fed he raises holy hell. For a sweet cuddlebug of a cat, he can certainly yowl quite loudly when he puts his mind to it. So I got up and fed him before going back to sleep for another hour or so. I feel rested this morning, which is quite lovely when you are heading into a weekend with lots and lots to do; it’s nice to not feel tired in such a situation. I am going to try to fix the dryer this morning before I start working–wish me luck–and of course, the Lost Apartment, as always on Friday, has become a disaster area over the course of the week. But the weekend dawns anew, and so maybe, just maybe, I can maybe even get sort of caught up on what I am behind on?

Perish the thought, perchance to dream.

I am also looking forward to digging into Cheryl Head’s Time’s Undoing, which looks fantastic and I’ve been itching to read since I first learned of it, and of course, Bobby Mathews’ Living the Gimmick, which I am also excited to dip into. So many good books on hand to get through, so little time. Heavy heaving sigh. And of course, if I fix the dryer and it actually works–I am very nervous about this, as one can probably imagine; but I am equipped with Youtube videos to help and I do think it’s kind of sad that I am so unskilled with tools and so forth. The three things I wish I could do over? I wish I had taken Auto Shop and Typing in high school, and I wish I’d learned how to build things with, you know, hammers and wrenches and so forth. I hate not being able to feel confident about doing simple repair work, like replacing a fuse in a dryer (which may not be the issue with the dryer, but this is the only thing I can potentially do myself without calling in a repairman, at which point it’s probably less expensive to simply replace it–which is disgusting. We’ve really become, over the course of my life, a disposable society where it’s easier and less expensive to simply replace something rather than get it repaired), but I am also looking at it this way: even if the fuse wasn’t the problem–and I do think that’s what it is–if I can successfully move the dryer out, disassemble the back, and replace the fuse, I am going to take that as a win even if that doesn’t fix the problem, because at least I tried before simply replacing it.

Today feels like it might be a good day. Grief isn’t linear, as I am constantly being reminded by those who have been through this already, and I also instinctively know that; I can remember other traumatic life events in the past being this way; one day or two is a good day, then you have a low, shitty day, and so it goes, on and on ad nauseum, ad infinitum. I also kind of feel like I can actually get something written after work tonight? I do have some errands I need to run at some point later today–which is always exhausting–but I think I can get away with staying in most of the weekend. I do want to wash the car and vacuum it out; I’ve put nearly three thousand miles on it in February, so there’s a lot of wrappers and trash and debris in the floorboards, plus dirt tracked in from rest stops and so forth. I want to be better about taking care of the car, if that makes sense? I am doing a great job with it as far as maintenance (the fact that newer cars don’t require as much regular maintenance as the old ones I am used to is an enormous help in that regard) is concerned, even having the tires rotated regularly. The car is dented and dinged up, and perhaps someday I will get those dents and dings repaired, but on the other that does not keep the car from functioning properly and therefore that’s not a priority for me. Maybe someday, but certainly not now.

Ugh, the kitchen/office is such a disaster area. I really need to do something about that…and that is probably the proper and best way to transition over into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

We Got the Beat

Thursday and my last day in the office this week. Woo-hoo?

I slept really well again last night and feel very rested. Yesterday was a good day; today feels kind of like it might be one, too. I suppose we shall simply have to wait and see how it all plays out, won’t we? But when I got home last night I felt pretty good. I picked up my copy of Cheryl Head’s Time’s Undoing, which I really want to spend some time with this weekend, since I’ve been looking forward to reading it once it was announced to be forthcoming. Cheryl’s a terrific writer and a wonderful person, and it has been a pleasure and joy watching her career take off since we first met all those years ago.

I didn’t get much done last night, nor did I even get to read much either; not sure what happened to last evening once I got home, to be honest. I know I worked on the dishes for awhile, but never finished. Scooter was, as always, feeling needy and screaming for attention, and once I get in the easy chair and he starts sleeping/purring in my lap, I’m a goner. I know I watched a lot of Youtube videos but I honestly can’t remember doing much of anything other than going down Internet wormholes on my iPad. Today I believe is a slow day at the office, which should help me get caught up on things I am behind on there, and of course tomorrow is my work-at-home day. Tomorrow morning I am going to try to replace the dryer fuse–I do remember debating about trying to do this last night and finally deciding not to try, because of the extreme frustration that would result from that not being the thing that is actually wrong with the dryer, plus it’s not going to be terribly easy to begin with; I have to pull the dryer out from where it is snugly place beside the washing machine in a very small laundry room; it has to come all the way out and be turned around so I can access the back of it (I am dreading seeing what it looks like behind and beneath the dryer), which is going to be an irritating pain in the ass.

And of course, there’s always the chance Scooter will go back there and won’t come out. Heavy heaving sigh. But I am looking forward to being in New Orleans this weekend, and I am starting to feel a lot better about everything. It still sneaks up on me now and then–when people offer condolences, it becomes problematic as I tend to choke up when talking about it with people face to face–but when I am on my own, I tend to be able to handle it without breaking down, if that makes sense? It’s when I talk about it with kind people that it overwhelms me; I know they are trying to be a comfort and it’s coming from a very good place…but it’s rough. Everything’s rough, really, and I’m still trying to figure out everything and processing it all. I am definitely not over it yet, acceptance is beginning, but it still sneaks up on me from time to time.

Sorry to be so dull and keep going on about it. It is what it is, after all, and no amount of moping or sadness is going to change anything. I do think I need to spend some time writing about my mom, though; writing always helps, and fictionalizing things is always the best way for me to handle things that happen to me. Writing my essay “I Haven’t Stopped Dancing Yet” and Murder in the Rue Chartres was enormously helpful to my healing process in the years after Hurricane Katrina; even last night as I was thinking about the Title IX issue in my old school district in Kansas (which I am becoming more and more obsessed by) and thought, you could write a book about this, and from the perspective of a queer adult from that school district who goes down a rabbit hole after his mother dies and…

Kind of pulled back a bit from that one as it developed, but it’s not a terrible idea.

And I already have so much else to write on the agenda. I’ve got to get these two manuscripts revised, I need to move on to Chlorine and the other one I have in progress, and of course I wanted to get all those novellas finished this year and I don’t think that is going to happen unless I get out of this malaise and affix my nose to the grindstone again. And there are short stories I need to get written.

Okay, on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

Skidmarks on My Heart

Wednesday and somehow it’s pay-the-bills day again, but it’s also the first of March. February was clearly a write-off for me on almost every level, so March is going to have to be a “get your shit together” month for me. I am hoping that I will get a lot done this weekend, too. Fingers crossed, at any rate.

I went down a wormhole the other day; I’m not really sure how I wound up where I did, but I know I was thinking about places I’d lived (the Mom thing again) and so was looking at our suburb in Chicago, the county in Kansas, and so forth. So you can imagine my shock and surprise when I came across an article about an eighth grader in my old school district in Kansas being victimized by homophobia. (Homophobia in Kansas doesn’t surprise me–I experienced it first hand for five years–but what surprised me was an eighth grader in my old school district is an out lesbian. Long story short, kids on the bus were being kids on the bus (I do not miss riding the bus) and swearing, etc. At some point there were some slurs being tossed about, and as the young girl responded, “There’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian. I’m a lesbian” at a time when the bus had one of those moments where everything goes silent for a moment. The bus driver, being garbage, thought that was horrifying (as the security videos from the bus later showed, said bus driver had no problem with junior high and elementary school kids yelling fuck and asshole and faggots and the n-word; no, the girl said lesbian so she must be punished. The school district didn’t even review the tapes, and despite having a three-strikes policy for bus riders; decided her saying lesbian was three strikes and she was banned for a week from riding the bus. The family appealed to the principal,. who refused to even review the tapes; the family went to the school board and the press–and it became a thing. Cheerleaders at my old high school wore rainbow ribbons in their hair to show support at games (way to go, cheerleaders!) and parents and teachers got involved. A library aide who was giving out rainbow pins at my school was fired; which triggered resignations from the teaching staff. Finally, the ACLU got involved, and the principal–who was being transferred in a big promotion to Emporia High–and the bus driver were terminated, and the school board rescinded the principal’s job offer at Emporia High. The eighth grader did eventually switch schools, but finally got justice of a sort.

And shortly thereafter, she went missing. There are no news reports that she’s been found since she was reported missing, which is heartbreaking and sad.

And of course, my mind started whirling about another Kansas book for me based on this story. But I don’t have a title for it…and I can’t write anything without a title. But I have a lot of other things I need to do before I can even think about writing this book, but I can start doing research when I have a spare moment or am too tired to read or focus on a movie or TV show.

And at least I am thinking creatively again, which feels lovely. I’ve been rather listless since getting back to New Orleans, but I am hoping that settling back into my daily routine of getting up in the dark and going to the office every day will snap me back into my reality. I’d like to wash the car and clean it out this weekend, and I should probably do more cleaning up around the house this weekend. I want to start eating healthier than I have been (my weight has been out of control for far too long) but I also know that I need to start exercising more. I think I am going to start doing crunches and stretching every day while waiting to find out what’s the deal with my big toe (reasons to succeed, not excuses for failing). I think I may go to Urgent Care on Friday morning before work–on the other hand, I could also go tonight; they’re open until 8…but I also don’t want to take a chance on having to go somewhere this evening for X-rays, either. Heavy sigh. Why am I so bad at making decisions for my personal life? Why do I actively avoid making decisions in my private life?

Probably because I have such a shitty track record with decision making. What can I say? It is what it is.

At least I slept well last night. I was exhausted when I got home yesterday. The dryer fuse arrived in the mail yesterday but I was too worn out to bother with trying to move the dryer and fix it; that will be a chore for Friday morning, methinks. I did finish a load of laundry in the carriage house last night and emptied the dishwasher, preparatory to refilling it…but I got so tired standing at the sink washing the dishes that I gave up part of the way through and left them to soak until I get home tonight, which should make washing them all that much easier. I did provide Scooter with a sleeping lap while I watched some documentaries on Youtube; don’t ask me what they were because I don’t remember a whole lot of them (I told you I was tired last night) but I know I watched some of History Guy’s biographies of past presidents–definitely Benjamin Harrison (we have the same birthday, over a century apart–but I’m also not sure what else I watched, either. I tend to mindlessly scroll through social media on my iPad while I am sitting there watching the videos so that could also have something to do with it. I’ve also decided that my next read with be Bobby Mathews’ Living the Gimmick (I think that’s the title; I know it’s verb the Gimmick), which is set in the world of professional wrestling in Alabama, which should be very interesting. I read the opening paragraph last night and really liked it, so hopefully when I get home tonight I won’t be too tired to watch. I know Paul won’t be home early enough to watch The Mandalorian tonight, which means I have to avoid spoilers everywhere until this weekend when we will be able to watch.

But today I feel rested and wide awake and ready to go; we were also terribly busy yesterday at the office; the first time in years we’ve had a full schedule of someone booked every half hour (we went back to the old “someone every half hour” in January), so I was rather hopping yesterday at work, and being so tired really didn’t help; although I did get a jolt of adrenaline at some point that rode me through the afternoon until I was completely exhausted at the end of my work day.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Hopefully tonight, I will have the energy to get things done that need to get done and be productive again. Have a great Wednesday, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow.

Lust to Love

It’s literally amazing how much stuff fell by the wayside over the last couple of weeks, really. I realized yesterday that it was already the 26th and thought how can that be? Mom just died on Valentine’s Day–twlve days ago? But I went to the office the rest of that week and drove over for the funeral last weekend, and then I was on bereavement leave and worked at home–the Fat Tuesday holiday fell in the midst of my leave–and today I am going back into the office, which feels like a step in the right direction towards normalcy, of a sort. Life does goes on, and as I’ve moped around this last week, it also kind of feels like I’ve been in a fog of sorts for quite some time. I should be used to this sort of thing, as it always happens with a paradigm shift–like how the weekend before Katrina we’d gone to Hammond to celebrate my birthday and had a great time…and while we were evacuated, that seemed like was a different life, a different world, and even happened to different people. Murder in the Magic City/Murder on the Menu seems like it was months ago. And hadn’t I just turned in the manuscript that week before I left, with plans to get back on it as soon as I recovered from that trip? Then Mom had her stroke and everything went up into the air, and now I’m trying to find all the balls I dropped somewhere that I had been somehow managing to keep up in the air.

Yesterday was a gorgeous day; it was eighty degrees when I made groceries and gassed up the car. I kept the toe elevated and iced for most of the rest of the day while I read more of Abby Collette’s marvelous Body and Soul Food–which I am really enjoying–and then around five gave up on everything for the rest of the day. I printed out a short story I need to read to see if I can revise it into something that I can turn in for this anthology I’ve committed a story to, and of course I have to dive back into the manuscripts. I have to write something for Paul for Saints and Sinners; and I think I may have agreed to write something else? I need to do thank you cards and I need to mail the books to the winners of the Facebook page takeover giveaway that I did. I need to check in on my dad and sister, and of course at some point this week the fuse for the dryer is going to arrive so I can see if I can get that working again (prayers are appreciated and welcomed; not having a dryer has really sucked). I also ordered some other things I need. I just feel like I don’t have a grasp yet on my own life, and I don’t really like the way it feels. It’s almost like I am swimming through a fog, and things I used to easily remember and keep track of now just go right out of my mind like they were never there in my head in the first place. I don’t like this feeling; I don’t like not being able to trust my memory anymore–but even now as I write this I am wondering hasn’t this been the case for a while? Isn’t that why you started making lists in the first place–because if you didn’t write it down you’d forget?

I can’t even trust my memory about my memory. There’s a Kafka novel in there somewhere.

I’m also more aware of how quickly I tire now, too. I know that’s been going on for a while–since last summer’s horrific bout with Long COVID–but I am hoping that once I get back into the gym I will start building up my endurance again, and I also have to accept that it won’t be quick and my body won’t change at the speed that it used to. For one example, I was overweight when I moved back to New Orleans in August of 2001; I’d lost twenty pounds and tightened up everything by Halloween so I could wear a slutty costume. I’m not going to be able to return to the gym and be able to dress slutty again within eight weeks. (Not that I would dress slutty now–I’m in my sixties, for God’s sake, and I don’t care whether people think I look good or not anymore. It was never the priority of the gym for me in the first place. Yes, I liked looking good and yes, I liked getting flirted with and hit on, but for me that was a nice side effect to having the endurance to dance for hours, or feeling good physically.

God, I used to be so vain! I don’t really miss vanity, though.

One of the things I was working on before Mom had the final stroke was building a website–just something to play around with when I have time (ha ha ha ha ha, sure, Greg, that’s going to happen) and of course, that was the same fucking day I got the text from my sister, so I’ve not done a whole hell of a lot there, you know? I did get the domain registered, and I loaded a picture as well as info on A Streetcar Named Murder, but it’s going to take me some more time to learn how to do all the things I want it to do.

Because I am just swimming in free time.

I’m a bit groggy this morning, mainly because I am out of the habit of waking up to the alarm now–it actually jolted me awake, as opposed to me already being awake when it goes off, which means a retraining of myself yet again as this does not feel natural to me. It feels weird having to go back to the office this morning, as well. My toe’s not quite as painful this morning, either–it still hurts, mind you, but I can walk without limping and it’s not as bad as it has been, which is progress. I am still going to message my doctor today, though. We’ll see how it feels at the end of the day, won’t we? I suppose I can always ice it again once I am home tonight.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have the best Monday you can, Constant Reader.

Fading Fast

Today’s title is an insanely accurate description of my memory; which has been fading faster and faster the older I get, which is endlessly annoying. I mean, it’s bad enough that my body has been endlessly betraying me more and more the older I get, but does my brain have to do it as well? Heavy heaving sigh. Granted, it’s not like I haven’t had reasons for my brain to stop functioning properly in the case of memory; we did have the trauma of a global pandemic on top of everything else that has been going on in the last few years, and of course, I’ve been stressed about Mom for the last three or four or five years or whenever all of her health issues began. I am slowly coming out of the funk, I think–I do think this every morning and then some time in the afternoon it hits me like a 2 x 4 between the eyes–and I need to reenter the world. I am going back to the office tomorrow for the first time in like well over a week, which has also been incredibly disorienting. I think getting back into my usual routine will make a huge and significant difference in my mental well-being; being off routine for someone as OCD as me is always an issue of sorts.

My toe is much better this morning, thanks for asking. It still hurts somewhat, but I spent most of yesterday elevating it or icing it, and I am not limping this morning. I think another day of icing and elevation may just do the trick…which makes me tend to think it’s not broken or bruised or sprained. Tomorrow morning I’ll take a picture of it and send it to my doctor through the app along with a note; I should have done this last week but…it’s been hard getting motivated lately. While I was icing and elevating yesterday I made some significant progress on Abby Collette’s marvelous Body and Soul Food, and I have to share something sort of funny with you at some point about that; I just realized yesterday that Abby Collette is a pseudonym of Abby L. Vandiver; and all along I kept wanting to say Body and Soul Food was written by Abby Vandiver; even correcting myself a couple of times here on the blog when I mentioned the author–and then would chastise myself for confusing two women of color (which happens a lot, sadly; I heard someone call Kellye Garrett Rachel once at a conference–Rachel Howzell Hall–and vowed I would never do that). Turns out the author is actually who I thought she was, just using a different name! This was kind of a relief, because the constant confusing Vandiver for Collette was making feel like I needed to work more on my own subconscious racism. But the book is engaging and entertaining–Abby and I were both in The Faking of the President anthology back in 2020–and I am looking forward to finishing it during this morning’s icing and elevating.

I didn’t leave the house yesterday other than taking out the recycling and a bag of garbage. Paul was gone most of the day–he came home from the office after I went to bed early–and I meant to get a lot more done yesterday than I eventually did get done. The kitchen looks much better than it did before all the stuff with Mom started, and while I still have some things that need to get done today before I return to the office tomorrow, but it’s progress and I will take it. As long as I can stay motivated today, I think I should be able to get a lot of things done today–things that need to be done. I need to make groceries today–I made the list yesterday when they canceled my pick-up order–and I need to get gas on the way home from that. Grocery shopping, lugging everything in from the car, and then putting it all away inevitably makes me tired and exhausted, so the key is to get everything set up before I head out so that I have no excuses and everything is out and ready for me with little to no effort.

I also decided to write something private, merely for me, about my mother. I think it’s necessary for me to sort out my complicated and complex feelings about my relationship with her and my family; there’s a lot of baggage and I am starting to see things now with the kind of clarity that wasn’t possible when she was still with us, if that makes any sense at all. It’s odd how that kind of clarity isn’t possible when they are still alive, you know? And the slow, subtle changes to my life that result from the loss of Mom I’m only now starting to realize. What does this mean about the holidays, going forward? I don’t feel guilty about anything–I thought I might when I lost a parent–but I really don’t. I didn’t write very much to begin with yesterday–a couple of hundred words, maybe, at best–but it was writing and it did help me somewhat…and let’s be honest, how do I deal with everything, really? By losing myself in my writing, that’s how.

My coffee tastes rather marvelous this morning, too. I slept in until eight thirty–I woke up at five thirty, as I do usually every morning–and feel very rested. If it weren’t for my toe, I’d say physically I feel about as good as I can for someone who hasn’t set foot in the gym for over a year. I can tell my muscles need to be worked and stretched and pushed to their limits again, and I think I am going to tell Paul to take my membership off-pause at the end of March; I’d say for March but I’m not sure that’s wise given the toe situation. I feel good this morning–probably best to say “at peace”, really–for the first time in a while. Acceptance has finally come–although I am sure the waves of grief will come back at some point, triggered by something–but I am not going to beat myself up for not getting a lot done this past week, or being pushed off track with everything by Mom dying. I am very behind on everything, and I need to start digging out from under.

And on that note, I am going to make another cup of coffee and start the elevating/icing process for today. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader.

Messages

My God, my email inbox is completely out of control.

At one point in mid-January and before February I had it almost emptied; there was blank space at the bottom of the inbox for more emails to be viewed but there weren’t any. It was a glorious feeling, frankly, for the few weeks it lasted before everything went off the rails. I suspect now that I can get through it all even faster than I did back in mid-January, but it’s sooooooo daunting.

Yesterday I swung by Home Depot to buy the fuse I need for the dryer, which they don’t keep in stock. The helpful man in the Appliance Accessories aisle told me of one place I may be able to find it in stock, and so I called them (and Lowe’s) from the parking lot and found that neither do, so I went ahead and ordered it on-line and it should be here Tuesday. The suspense, right? Will we need a new dryer, or will Greg somehow be able to repair the one they already have? There will undoubtedly be an update on this fascinating case on Wednesday; in which we either have a working dryer or have gone ahead and ordered a new one. Sigh. I also swung by the mail and the Fresh Market; I am going to have to actually venture into the grocery store at some point this weekend (Sunday morning most likely) because I also woke up to an email that my grocery order was canceled due to the system at the store being down this morning; it was originally postponed from yesterday to today, so I think the system has been having problems for a hot moment already; although I do suppose I could order them from the store on the West Bank, which means I could stop at Sonic on the way home and…it really takes so little to make me happy.

I finally booked my flights for San Diego Bouchercon! So my two trips for the year–Malice Domestic and Bouchercon–are all booked and ready for me to travel. I also need to do some more organizing and filing this morning, too–I also have to put the dishes away and do another load of laundry, and I really should work on cleaning up around here. My toe was worse yesterday than it’s been in a while, but this morning the swelling seems to have gone back down and while it’s still painful, it’s not throbbing the way it was last night, which was very painful. Adding message doctor tomorrow on medical app to the to-do list. We also watched two more episodes of Class last night, which differs from Elité enough to make it something new, but it’s funny how the personalities of the actors affect the characters. While many of the storylines are the same, the season of this Indian version is a few episodes shorter, so some of the emphasis on secondary storylines isn’t there as much as in the Spanish. But I want to finish it because Outer Banks’ third season dropped last night, and it looks completely insane and over-the-top, which is wild because the entire run of the show has been insane and over-the-top; I’m really glad it hasn’t been one of those Netflix shows that get orphaned after an amazing first season (so many I couldn’t even begin to name them all). So, today I think I am going to spend some time in my easy chair with my toe elevated and an icepack on it. I want to finish reading Body and Soul Food so I can move on to another book in the TBR pile–there are so damned many, Jesus Lord God–and I do want to keep my reading habit satisfied. I’m been struggling not to buy more books–it’s so damned tempting, especially when you have books out there by favorite authors just begging to be bought–and I also need to start writing thank you cards to everyone for their kindnesses these last few weeks.

And of course, there’s that horrible inbox. But if I start answering and saving my answers as drafts this weekend, I can maybe have the entire thing cleaned and cleared out by Monday afternoon? Perchance to dream….

And then of course I am very behind on writing everything I should be writing, but have had little to no desire to even look at anything these last few weeks. I’ve always felt writer’s block had more to do with depression than anything else; an endlessly revolving cycle in which you get depressed about not writing and then can’t and that renews the depression. I do think I need to start writing something for myself about Mom–if for no other reason than to keep the memories fresh–and I do think that could break the logjam in my brain and get me writing again.

And on that note, I am going to make some more coffee and repair to the chair with the icepack and the book. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check back in with you again later.

Enola Gay

Friday and it’s a work-at-home Friday, at that. I have data to enter and forms to check for accuracy–always an exciting day around the Lost Apartment–but also, working at home today is a return to normalcy and routine around here after the big disruption. My grocery order has been rescheduled from today till tomorrow, which is fine; it wasn’t going to be the easiest thing in the world to get them today, frankly. I am going to swing by the office to get more work this morning, and then I am going to swing by Lowe’s/Home Depot or whatever that is just up the road from the office to get the replacement fuse for the dryer–yes, I am going to make an attempt to fix it myself, which seems like madness but if I can spend about fifteen bucks to save us six hundred, I am going to do that very thing. I mean, it makes financial sense, and one of my goals for this year is to make better financial decisions.

It’s also hard to believe and/or imagine that February is almost gone. I mean…usually the month is lost to Carnival, so this year it was lost to something else.

Paul was late getting home last night, so I watched the new Netflix documentary about the Murdaugh murders in South Carolina, and then watched some short documentaries about the presidents on Youtube, starting with James Buchanan and then working my way through John Quincy Adams, Polk and Wilson (i may watch more of them today; I do love my US History, and it’s been a hot minute since I’ve watched anything on US History–but I did yesterday). I also watched a documentary about Fort Proctor on Lake Borgne (which is still there but it is cut off from land by water and is only reachable by boat; you can’t really go inside either because it’s not stable) and I really want to write Fort Proctor into a book at some point, or something, even a short story or two.

There’s just so much about New Orleans that needs and deserves to be written about, you know?

Today I also need to end the wallowing self-indulgence of grief and start digging my way out into the world again. I did finish One Night Gone yesterday and really enjoyed it (more to come on that score), and now can go back to Body and Soul Food. One of the things I want to make certain I am doing from now on is taking a bit of time every day to go ahead and do some reading; if I don’t make a point of it I will never get through this TBR stack, and there are so many wonderful choices in my TBR stack that it’s sometimes hard to pick out my next read. (I’ve also almost finished–at long last–Robert Caro’s exhaustive work on the career of Robert Moses, The Power Broker, which is kind of scary, given it’s great Robert Caro-like length) I need to finish the clean-up/organization of my workspace (which means more filing, but so be it), and I think I’d like to wash the car at some point this weekend as well. I am slowly developing a plan for today’s errands that will make them more time-efficient; the question is, do I want to get Five Guys today? I did have it recently as a treat (I don’t remember when; remember, I have no concept of time and dates anymore), so maybe it’s too soon to have it again or something, but I neither know nor care. We’ll see how I feel when it’s time for me to head over there, once I’ve gotten through the great joy that is this morning.

I slept really well again last night and my toe doesn’t seem to hurt when I walk on it this morning–it’s still sore, make no mistake about that, but it’s a lot better. I still think I need to talk to my doctor (honestly, I don’t know why I have so many issues when it comes to medical assistance that I pay for through my insurance, but it’s a lifelong thing, really) about it, but I’m not sure what good that may or may not do but I suppose it’s better than never having it checked out and just being in pain for the rest of my life. I mean, if it’s something that needs treatment, I should kind of know that, don’t you think?

I also feel decent this morning, rested, at any rate. I’ve been sleeping well every since I returned home, which is a relief and not much of a surprise. It shouldn’t surprise me that there are emotional states that overrule sleeping medications and exhaustion, although I will admit I was worried this inability to sleep would follow me home from Alabama, which it thankfully did not. Now all I need to do is get back to work on the manuscripts and so forth and everything else that is due–my inbox, Jesus Christ the Lord, my inbox–and start working my way through that to-do list (which is by no means comprehensive).

And Outer Banks is back today! Huzzah!

And on that note, I am going to have some more coffee before heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again soon.