Tag: Costco

The Planet Earth Rock and Roll Orchestra

Work at home Friday, and all is peaceful in the Lost Apartment this morning. Huzzah? I think this is a definite huzzah. I have a department meeting later this morning (online) and a lot of quality assurance to get done before I get to dive back into the book as we enter into the home stretch. Isn’t it exciting? I need to be finished by close of business EST Monday, and I worry that I may need every minute of that time. But there’s nothing else to do but get to work on it, is there? I think we’re also going to run to Costco after I am done working, too. It’s going to be quite the busy day for me.

The independent autopsy of Trey Reed, the young Delta State student found hanging not so long ago, concluded the cause of death was actually blunt force trauma, not hanging, which makes it murder, not suicide. Anyone surprised the cops and legal system in Mississippi covered up the murder of a Black college student? I certainly wasn’t, and anyone who believed those initial findings–the cops determined it was a suicide immediately, and didn’t bother looking for anything else–is a fucking racist and moron. When it comes to anyone who isn’t white or straight in the South, authority simply can’t be bothered. It may NOT be racism; it could just be sheer laziness and incompetence, but forget it, Jake–it’s Mississippi.

And thank you, Colin Kaerpernick, for your foundation’s work and paying for the independent autopsy so his family can try to seek what passes for justice in that wretched state. (There’s an entire essay to be written about Kaerpernick and the NFL’s selective and unbalanced and unfair approach to protest and political speech, but I am also sure any number of Black writers have done so already, and also have done exceptional work on the topic making anything I could write or say overly simplistic and from too privileged a perspective to do much good for anyone.)

Yesterday was a good day for the most part but I was terribly exhausted when I got home, and wasn’t really able to do much of anything once I was here. I’d already done most of the chores on Wednesday night so there wasn’t much to do last night, and over the weekend I can do the odds and ends that are left to be done. I caught up on the news–the Theo Von break with MAGA was an interesting turn (the rise of reality show performers into the political arena is also something that needs to be written about, if for no other reason than to warn future voters about the dangers of celebrity politicians, no matter how minor the celebrity may have been). Theo is from the North Shore of Louisiana, and he used to work out at my sorely missed gym around the corner (nice body, aging into redneck face). I watched one of his stand-up specials a while back, out of curiosity; I turned it off ten minutes in because I hadn’t even cracked a smile once. Next thing I knew, he’s a podcaster with incredible reach that he used for evil and to help destroy the country. He’s waking up to the knowledge he was played for a sucker…but I also don’t feel terribly sorry for him, either. What am I supposed to think? “Sorry you’re not nearly as smart as you thought you were”? And…the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain is populated pretty heavily with white racists who fled the integration of the public school system in New Orleans.

And don’t even get me started on Sean fucking Duffy.

But I slept pretty well last night and feel very rested this morning. My legs feel a bit tired, but that’s nothing I can’t deal with and I am going to be seated most of the day…although sometimes they tighten up if I sit for a long time. After Paul got home, we watched this week’s The Morning Show and Peacemaker–which I am really enjoying this season, and will definitely be writing about the show once this season concludes–before retiring to bed for the evening pretty early.

Sigh, it’s going to be glorious not really having to get up to an alarm for a week….because my vacation also begins when I finish day job work today. Huzzah!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in which you tomorrow, okay?

Beach Baby

I love this song still to this very day. It came out during a time where nostalgia was big–especially the 1950s–and the Beach Boys had just made another comeback and their album Endless Summer was a huge hit. The song is very reminiscent of the Beach Boys–all that California sun and surf and cheerfulness and high school hops–but there was a melancholy under all that cheerful nostalgia, especially with the background refrain, oft-repeated through it, of do you remember? do you remember? (The song also come out around the same time as a book called What Really Happened to the Class of 65? and I always associated the song with the book.)

It is Tuesday morning and I am up early, as always, swilling coffee and eating coffee cake, care of Costco. I did finish editing that story, and got it turned in. I hope the editor likes it. I had the idea for it many years ago–not that long, but it seems like it now–and started writing it, getting a draft done before wondering where to try to sell it. I was going to submit it to the Minneapolis Bouchercon anthology I edited, putting it through the anonymous read process as I did for the New Orleans and St. Petersburg ones because it would look like “insider pool” if I was accepted. (I have not submitted to a Bouchercon anthology since being told this, by the way. If their board thinks I would just automatically put my own story in there instead of following the same procedure as everyone else? I don’t need to be in any of their anthologies in the future.) I’ve had the idea for a long time–going back to when I actually lived in Minneapolis, which is where I also came up with the title, which is one of my favorites of all my titles. I did try selling some other places, but the story was still…not quite right, and was rejected, as it should have been. I think I was able to fix it, but…we’ll have to see. But it felt good to work on it, and I also realized that just because it doesn’t “feel” the same to write and edit as it used to, doesn’t mean I’m not doing good work. I’ve changed, both physically and mentally, and that’s going to make things seem different to me than how they used to work, you know?

Yesterday wasn’t a bad day, you know. We weren’t as busy at work as I had expected, primarily from no-shows and last minute reschedules, so I wasn’t exhausted when I got home from work and worked on the story. I didn’t do any chores–the kitchen somehow exploded again, I don’t know how all this happens, honestly–so when I get home tonight I can’t write or read or even catch up on the news until those chores are completed. I hate when the downstairs is a mess, and the whole apartment, when it’s out of order, feels very cramped and small and claustrophobic. Because I am all about the claustrophobia? Apparently so. I slept well again last night and don’t feel terribly sleepy or tired this morning, which is a good thing. Sparky was a combination cuddle-bug/attack kitty this morning before I got up, and went into attack mode again while I was putting my shoes on. I think Paul will be working late at the office tonight, if I am not mistaken, and so it’ll be time for some bonding time after I write (or while I read and edit). I doubt I’ll be catching up on the news; the current story dominating the legacy “media” doesn’t interest me, nor am I interested in being shamed for not mourning someone who advocated me being stoned to death, either. (Miss me with the “he didn’t say that!” Okay, then, tell me one positive thing he ever said about queer rights and equality. I’ll wait.)

The story not getting this fawning, wall-to-wall coverage from the legacy media? How about the two men lynched on consecutive days in Mississippi? The Mississippi “police” already determined the Black college student’s death had “no evidence of foul play.” Really? The other victim was a white homeless man, and their names were, respectively, Trey Reed of Delta State University and Cory Zukatis. After all, it’s not like the Mississippi police have a history of covering up hate crimes or anything. (eye roll to infinity)

We are living in dark times, indeed.

And on that grim note, I am heading into the spice mines. Stay safe, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning.

Third Rate Romance

Monday and back to the office with me this morning. The Saints lost yesterday, but at least it was an exciting game. I slept well and feel good this morning, which is a good thing. I have to cover the clinic today instead of having an Admin day, and we’re book pretty solid, just as we were last Thursday and almost everyone showed up. It’s fine, I do love my job after all, but sometimes that’s a little draining. Ah, well, I can go home after work and chill out with my Sparky, who was cuddling with me this morning after the first tap of the snooze button. Bless his little heart, that’s not exactly helping me get up in the morning.

Yesterday, despite the Saints loss, was pretty good. I felt good when I got up in the morning–there was some fatigue still in my hips, but nothing horrifying–and while I didn’t do all the chores I wanted to get done, I did do some, and ran the dishwasher. I still have all those boxes from Costco to take out to the trash, but maybe I can get that done tonight after work. But while the Saints game was on, I actually wrote and read some more of The Hunting Wives, which is so different from the show but in a very interesting way. And the writing work I got done was good work; I could tell as I was working that this was good stuff, which is awesome. The short story is due today, and I just need to sand down some of the rougher edges on it before I turn it in, and then full focus on getting Scotty finished. I was actually thinking a lot about the Scotty yesterday, too, which is kind of cool. I feel like I’m getting back into the writing groove again, and once the Scotty is finished, I’d like to get a rough draft of Chlorine finished by the end of the year and perhaps start another novel before January 1. We’ll see, I guess.

We also didn’t watch the Emmys, primarily because we don’t care that much, choosing to watch The Thursday Murder Club, with its incredible cast, instead. I’ve not read the book it was based on, but have heard great things about it, and the movie was absolutely charming and very well done. I do hope there will be more of these…and then we watched this week’s Platonic before starting the new season of Only Murders in the Building. (I saw someone on social media this weekend say that they were convinced the best way to watch the show was to assume Steve Martin and Martin Short are playing a gay couple–which I can actually see, but alas not canon.)

As many of us saw many so-called allies to marginalized communities slip into their Klan robes over the course of the last week and weekend, outing themselves as, if not racists and homophobes, then are certainly okay with homophobia and racism and oppression…this morning I noticed on social media that there’s yet another furor in the m/m community; this time about those conservative women who idolized the late unlamented provocateur and everything he stood for…I generally no longer comment on this subgenre of literature as a general rule because I have nothing to gain by saying anything. I noticed back in the late aughts that there was an awful lot of homophobia and bigotry and fetishization in that community, and merely asking “why do you want to write about gay men when you hate and marginalize them?” unleashed a torrent of hatred on me…you know, typical straight white women who cannot stand being questioned about anything. One of the “authors” publicly claimed that I was “clearly jealous of their careers”–um, you’re neither Harlan Coben nor Stephen King nor Nora Roberts; why would I be jealous of you? The vitriol and hate and dogpiling by these horrible women ON ACTUAL GAY MEN with questions about them and their motivations…no, can’t possibly be homophobic, could they? They also would threaten us with voting against queer equality unless we knuckled under to their appropriation and creation of a fake public homosexuality. The stark refusal of any m/m authors to denounce homophobes within their own community back then was kind of a tell to me that I and other gay men are not only not safe in those communities, but that they would always close ranks if there was anything critical from an “outsider.”

I’ve never cared who writes what, to be honest. If you want to write about gay men falling in love and finding their happily ever after, go for it and I wish you well with your writing and I hope you do well with it, as I do every other author out there (until you prove yourself to be filth). But if you’re going to, and you don’t support queer equality (or vote against it because reasons), you really need to look inward and reexamine yourself and your motivations: why are you writing (or reading) about people you don’t support or care about? How is that any less of a betrayal than those of performers who make money off queer audiences but actually hate them and are transactional (cough Kristin Chenowith among others cough)? If you write about queer people we are always going to assume you’re safe.

Talk about a bait and switch. You’re contemptible– a deplorable, if you will.

And yes, we get angry when we are stabbed in the back. It’s also why I never completely trust “allies.”

But it is nice, in 2025, to see m/m authors calling the homophobia out. Thank you, m/m writing community, for standing with us in this moment.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, and I’ll be back in the morning.

Love the One You’re With

GEAUX TIGERS!

I feel good this morning, like I slept well and recharged, which is always a nice feeling. My coffee tastes great, and so does the coffee cake we got at Costco yesterday. It was a pretty good day, despite some missteps (is every Walgreens in New Orleans a portal to hell?) and I had a strange experience getting gas, which I’ll have to sort out once the charge hits, but other than that and the horrible accident at Jackson and Prytania I saw the aftermath of (someone ran a red light and totaled their car hitting another one, thoughts and prayers) as the cops and tow trucks cleared the intersection. After finishing my work, we picked up my copy of the new Lou Berney and went to Costco. It wasn’t that expensive, comparatively speaking, compared to other shopping trips there. We came home, settled in after putting everything away, and watched this week’s Peacemaker before finishing Wednesday, which was a lot of fun before going to bed (I fell asleep in my chair catching up on news). Today I am going to order groceries, read (and edit), and work on the house during the football games today. Great games today, too–capping off with Florida at LSU (Geaux Tigers!) tonight!

Turns out Charlie Kirk’s murder was MAGA-on-MAGA crime, and not someone on the left at all. With their usual hypocrisy, MAGA was all in on “civil war” and “killing Democrats” before the truth was revealed and they immediately went in to “oh, no mental health that poor troubled young man” with no acknowledgement of their most recent blunder (they really are tiresome). And they wonder why we fucking hate them? I also didn’t have “Broadway icon whose entire career is due to gays being MAGA” on my 2025 Bingo card, either, the disgusting piece of shit. I never cared much for her–her voice, both speaking and singing, always sounded like a castrated chipmunk to me–but seriously, bitch? And you’re opening a new show on Broadway soon? I do wonder if the shrunken-headed leather-skinned flotilla of sewer shit will walk it back, but we really aren’t the ones…as she is about to fucking find out. Thoughts and prayers, trash. How’d that work out for Donna Summer? Do you think anyone is going to be booking Gloria Gaynor anywhere for the rest of her life? Gays have long memories, and we never forget being betrayed by someone who pretended to be an ally for money and fame.

I also loved the “free speech” advocates screaming about the communities he targeted not feeling bad enough about his murder. Remind me of the memorial day Jews have annually to mourn Hitler? If you weren’t targeted by this money-grubbing grifter and merchant of hate you don’t get to lecture or scold those who were. I blocked a lot of people over the last couple of days. Being reminded of how much trash is in the crime writing community is never a bad thing…another reminder of why I will never go to another crime writers’ conference ever again.

And for the record, that’s to protect these pieces of shit from me, because I am done being Mr. Nice Gay.

Sigh.

And on that note, I need to get my day going before the morning slips through my fingers. Have a great Saturday, Constant Reader, and GEAUX TIGERS!

The blues in this image are exceptional, making him look better, too.

You Are The Woman

Work at home Friday, but I won’t be able to attend my two virtual meetings today because I am getting my COVID vaccine and after that I am getting blood work done. I hope I don’t react too badly to the shot; the last one was rough and I felt sore and fatigued for like a day. I did sleep pretty well, and the Master of the Apartment let me sleep a little while later before smacking me repeatedly with a paw (claws out) to get me up to feed him, the little darling. I was tired last night after work, but nothing horrible; normal tired, as opposed to the all-encompassing and horrific fatigue. I’d happily go the rest of my life without feeling that fatigued again.

Ugh, so much to do, what else is new? LOL. We’re going to go to Costco later, and I have to get the mail and order some groceries for delivery and clean up around here after I finish doing my quality assurance stuff. Glad that I am feeling not so tired this morning, because all that running around (I also have to get gas at some point, too; getting really low), and of course there’s laundry to do and dishes to put away as always. Heavy heaving sigh. I do sometimes think it would be nice to have a staff, but I’d also hate someone else in my house doing shit. I don’t even like it when people are here doing repairs. I have always seen the Lost Apartment as a safe space away from the rest of the world, and having other people in my space isn’t something I’ve ever been terribly comfortable with. It’s my sanctuary!

The country continues to go down its tragic path and the empire continues falling. I say it often and I will say it again: I am so glad I am already old and don’t have my entire life in front of me, because the future looks pretty fucking grim and dark. Sorry, kids–but this is yet another reminder of how smart I was to never have any.

Crime Ink: Iconic continues to get marvelous reviews everywhere, which is absolutely delightful. I’m having creative flashes but haven’t been writing as much as I should, either. I have a short story due next week I need to work on this weekend and of course, I have to finish this damned Scotty book by the end of the month. The irony is I know what needs to be done with both but haven’t had much success sticking with it and making the words flow and the sentences form. I’m not in despair or anything like that about it, but it’s getting to that point, I think. I just need to get into the habit of writing something every day that isn’t this blog (or my newsletter).

Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. I know I am going to read and edit some more today.

Oh! I was interviewed recently (which you can read here,) and it went live the other day; I keep forgetting to post the link here because my stream of consciousness blogging inevitably is coming from a tired and foggy brain that doesn’t remember anything anymore.

And on that note, it’s Spice Mine City for me. Have a great Friday, COnstant Reader, and I shall be back in the morning, sure as the sun rises.

Got a Lot on My Head

Tuesday morning, and I am feeling super good about yesterday. I did get a bit tired in the afternoon, but I did make it through my entire work day successfully. I also came home and wrote; the document was about 3500 words, and it’s now over five thousand–but it was one of those revision things where I was adding while deleting, so I don’t know how many actual new words came from this go over; but I do know it was at least fifteen hundred more.

Not too shabby for someone whose mojo hasn’t been mojoing for a while!

Needless to say, I am most pleased with myself, and was feeling more than a little smug last night when I went to bed. I am awake this morning and feeling rested yet again, which is enormously pleasing, the coffee is going down very well, and while my sinuses are in a bit of revolt this morning, there are much worse things. Paul worked very late, so we were only able to watch one episode of Smoke, and if I was okay with but mildly indifferent to the show after one episode, now I am all in. There was a huge surprise twist at the end of the second episode, which was, over all, far superior to the first. Well done, Dennis Lehane.

I also sent out a newsletter yesterday, about Megan Abbott’s El Dorado Drive, but there were some other points I wanted to make that I forgot about until, naturally, the newsletter had been finalized and sent. Sigh. Ah, well. What I had wanted to say was the book was really about women’s independence, and what they are willing to do to achieve that end–which is definitely the kind of theme Abbott often explores in her work. Her books are just so damned smart and disciplined, and she just gets better and better with every book. The way she is so concise with her word choices and sentence structure, how she is able to paint an entire portrait in just a few short sentences…mind-blowing and impressive.

Tonight I have errands to run after work yet again–I need to get the mail, return a library book, and make a little bit of groceries. They didn’t have Clorox wipes at Costco last weekend, and I forgot to add them to my grocery order like a bonehead. Ah, well, I needed to pick up the mail anyway. Which reminds me, I need to make a list, just like I need to make a list whenever I order; I always look at previous orders to re-order, but if I need something I’ve not ordered before…you see how things get forgotten. I keep thinking make a list before you order and then I never do it, winding up leaving things I need off the order. I also loaded the dishwasher last night but forgot to turn it on. Genius! I’ll try to remember to turn it on before I leave for the office this morning. I also did some picking up, but I did forget about the clothes in the dryer, which I’ll get around to when I get home from work.

It’s not easy being June Cleaver, but I keep giving it the college try…

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines this morning. I hope to have a good day at the office, and will hopefully be back here tomorrow in the AM. Y’all have a great day, okay?

Il Duomo in Florence, always a magnificent sight.

Bye Bye Love

Saturday! Sparky let me sleep a little later this morning, but I still have some physical fatigue this morning. I seem to be mentally alert, but the physical shit is weighing me down. We did run errands after work yesterday, including Costco (I got a new vacuum cleaner for my birthday next week), and when we got home from everything and everything had been brought in and put away, I was done for the day. I spent most of the evening being a cat bed and watching documentaries on Youtube about history. Paul eventually finished his work duties and we watched the most recent Platonic, which I love.

Today I have an errand to run and groceries to order for delivery. I want to spend some more time with The Hunting Wives, which I started Thursday night, and my other current books. I need to clean the apartment, too–it’s a slovenly mess–and would again like to get some writing done today as well. I have to say getting groceries delivered might be the best thing to come out of the illness–now I never want to set foot in a grocery store for an extended period of time; I don’t mind dashing in for a few things every now and then. It’s much better that way and I can always swing by the one in the CBD on the way home from the office. I also need to assemble the new vacuum cleaner, so I will probably spend some time getting the floors taken care of, and it’s long overdue.

I certainly am enjoying my coffee and breakfast this morning. It’s already bright and sunny outside, which is lovely and probably means yet another heat advisory. August is flying by, and I really need to buckle down and get my act together. The fatigue and lethargy has been brutal this summer, and I have to understand that I will probably never go back to the way I was before I got sick. Which is also fine; I have nothing to prove to anyone anymore, and certainly not to myself, do I?

I picked up some new books Thursday on my way home from the office: the new Chuck Tingle (Lucky Day); She Didn’t Stand a Chance by Stacie Grey; and Dogs Don’t Break Hearts by ‘Nathan Burgoine. I also need to prune the books again, don’t I? It’s been a hot minute since I dropped off a donation box at the library. Part and parcel of the cleaning/organizing process, isn’t it? I still am a book hoarder, but I’m getting better. I certainly am not buying as many books as I did before. I really do need to make progress on the TBR stacks and piles all over this messy, overly dusty place.

And when the heat and humidity break, I am going to clean my filthy filthy windows.

I also have another newsletter to write this weekend.

And on that note, I am going to head over to my easy chair to read more of my current reads before running my errands and getting cleaned up and starting on the house. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back, most likely tomorrow morning.

The goddess Isis guarding the Canopic Shrine of Pharaoh Tutankhamen

Since I Held You

Ah, another work at home Friday and man, was I fatigued yesterday. I’m hoping that sleeping late this morning and tomorrow will knock the last of the fatigue out of my system. I was more mentally alert in the morning than I’d been since the infusion, but the brain wiring started sparking and malfunctioning in the afternoon. I do hate when that happens, and my legs get super-tired and my feet feel like I’m just dragging them along for the ride. Most unpleasant, actually. Needless to say, I didn’t run any errands on the way home last night, but after getting caught up on the news once I was home, I started doing research again on the 1970s by watching Youtube videos. (It’s amazing how much I’ve forgotten about the 1970s.) Today after work we’re going to go to Costco and run some various other errands, which means I’ll probably be exhausted again tonight. But that’s okay, I feel rested (my legs are still fatigued, though) and it’s always nice to get up to a cat alarm than to the horrible electronic beeping tones of an alarm.

I was kind of bummed there wasn’t a new episode of South Park this week, and I have to say, between the show and Gavin Newsom, I think this marks a sea change in the country. Turns out the MAGArbage doesn’t like being treated the way they’ve treated other people for the last ten years. Aw, they’re needing safe spaces like the precious, unique little snowflakes they are and always have been. But the masks are off them now permanently, and their narcissistic tantrums about “their” country and their “true” patriotism.

Sorry, if you try to overthrow the government, you’re not a patriot. And have we forgotten “Let’s go Brandon”? You’re not a patriot if you’re trying to cram your beliefs and values (such as they are) down the throats of everyone. You’re not a patriot if you celebrate and applaud violations of the Constitution. You can fetish worship symbols you don’t understand (for the record, wearing the flag as an article of clothing is also considered a desecration) all you want, but that doesn’t make you a patriot, especially if you don’t understand and appreciate what they symbolize.

And for the record, I am not about forgiving and forgetting. Straight white people, if and when this horrible period actually ends, will be all about that… just as they were after the Civil War. They always prefer to support other white people than oppressed minorities, to the detriment of the country, and we just wind up back where we were yet again because so many white people won’t address their bigotries and prejudices.

And as for Jillian Michaels, she has always been a garbage person. Anyone who calls herself a “gay woman” instead of “lesbian”? That’s kind of telling. She wants to join, and only associate, with the rich conservative cisgender white gays1. I do take some consolation in knowing that her unspeakable vileness means she is miserable and unhappy; it’s written all over her face. She must really be bitter that she can’t shame and embarrass overweight people on national television anymore. She was a disgrace to the fitness profession, and she’s a massive embarrassment of a human being. I hope she marries someone just like her and forgets the prenup. Irrelevant and useless, why does being a hateful bitch on television make her an authority on history and politics? Because she once had a reality show? Bitch, please.

This week, Taylor Swift announced, on the Kelce Brothers podcast, that she was dropping a new album, The Life of a Showgirl, in October. Yesterday she released the four alternate covers of the album, one of which is this:

One of the covers for Taylor Swift’s new album, The Life of a Showgirl.

She looks amazing, doesn’t she? But of course, trolls (who really need to get a life) did what they usually do whenever she does anything. The cover above was shared on social media by some bitter pill of a man in Houston, saying “She has young fans! How is this appropriate?” I personally have seen more skin on the beach or at a pool, and sometimes in the French Quarter. Yes, this is the problem, not a president who’s in the Epstein files for child rape, or all the youth pastors, or preachers, or priests arrested on the daily for raping kids. No, Taylor Swift in a Las Vegas-style showgirl outfit–on theme for her album–is the real problem2 kids are facing today.

God give me strength.

I am pleased to report, however, these zeta males were thoroughly ratioed and dragged in the comments…I don’t understand this sick need some people have for negative attention and being humiliated on-line (probably bots, but in some cases they are actually people), and probably never will.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I will most likely not be back until tomorrow morning.

  1. The Log Cabins are vile, period. ↩︎
  2. Where is all the upset about kids possibly finding out about Laura Loomer and “Arbys in her pants”? Give me a break. ↩︎

Photograph

Saturday morning and I feel rested after a very good night’s sleep. I got my work done yesterday after which we went to Costco, and groceries were delivered last night. All of this wore me out on top of all the chores I got done yesterday as well. I finally collapsed into my easy chair, Paul and Sparky curled up on the couch, and we binged about three or four episodes of The Hunting Wives, and there’s only two episodes to finish off tonight. I have a lot of errands to run this morning–prescriptions, mail, and two other stops–and then want to spend the afternoon writing and reading. I am having dinner with two friends from high school (!!!) that are in town for the weekend later on this evening, but it’s early enough so when I get home we can finish off the show, which is amazing (although there is no way that kid has a basketball scholarship to Baylor).

We’re supposed to have thunderstorms tonight, which will be fun as it always is (and will help me sleep very well again). Tomorrow I don’t have to leave the house at all other than taking out trash or using the grill (I think I’m going to make beef stroganoff tomorrow rather than burgers), which will be nice. I am going to try to do some more straightening up around here today–and will try not to be horrifically lazy the way I sometimes get on weekends–around writing and reading. I’d like to finish the Abbott today (or this weekend), and I also need to get through my Elizabeth Peters and Jay Bennett rereads as well. I’m not really sure what to read next: Rough Pages by Lev AC Rosen, perhaps, or maybe some horror, I can’t and don’t need to decide right now, either. I think my next Gothic reread might be either a Phyllis Whitney or Victoria Holt. Not sure on the kids/young adult next read or reread, either.

And I think Wednesday comes back next week, which is cool.

I did make some good progress on my workspace yesterday. It’s still a bit messy this morning, but just some straightening and filing is all that is necessary to get it all under control again. I think I’ve been feeling closed in and claustrophobic in the house because we have so much clutter everywhere, which isn’t much fun (the claustrophobic feeling), and that’s also because the heat and humidity of August is almost a sentient thing outside my windows; something oppressive and thick to the point where it feels like we’re in a cave sometimes. I just don’t have the energy to spend an entire day focused on cleaning, you know? Sparky making messes everywhere he goes doesn’t help on the cleaning front, either–always knocking shit off flat surfaces, like all cats do. He’s lucky he’s so sweet and cuddly.

I did actually think about what I need to revise this weekend yesterday, and I kind of know what to write now; it’s going to be an extensive revision, which should be fun to do and I will feel like I accomplished something today when I am done.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. I’m going to go catch up on the local and national news (depressing and horrifying as the national news inevitably always is) before I go run the errands and kick the day off.

Hysteria

Work at Home Friday, with tasks that need doing and an apartment to clean and a Costco run later on this afternoon. After I am finished with work stuff I am free until Monday morning to do as I please, and how I please is to get things delivered so I don’t have to leave the house all weekend! I also want to clean the apartment more, as well as dive into my reading and do some writing as well. I know I promised a short story to an anthology, which is cool and yet another short story sale for the year, and of course, all the books I am currently working (horribly slowly, for the record) on and trying to finish. I had planned to do more this year, but I also didn’t take “getting horribly sick and going into the hospital for six days and then trying to get my strength back” into consideration for planning this year’s writing schedule. I had hoped to have the Scotty finished and turned in, as well as the other one I am in process with. I do have some things to get done before I finally stop letting the new Scotty steep in the files, and get back to work on it.

Man plans, and God laughs, right?

I was exhausted when I got home last night, and fell asleep in my chair around seven! Paul worked late at the office finishing a grant, and I had no clue how worn out I was. I sat down in my chair, figuring I’d rest a but would get up and do some chores after getting caught up on the news. That didn’t happen, needless to say. Being tired hit me when I got home from work, alas–I was fading at work in the late afternoon–and I thought a little rest won’t hurt me as I got sucked into the news of the day about the slow, steady collapse of the country. I have a dishwasher to empty and reload, lots of laundry to do, a staff meeting at nine this morning, and data to enter. We’re going to Costco later in the afternoon when I’ve finished work, and I need to order the groceries to be delivered this evening. I also would like to do some writing and reading tonight, too. We shall see how it goes, won’t we?

I still feel a bit groggy but this second cup of coffee is quite delicious, and I need to make something to eat in a moment because I certainly don’t want to be eating on camera during the meeting.

I also saw a submissions call for an anthology that feels like its right up my alley and I could easily (ha!) come up with something to submit, and I’m actually kind of excited about exploring that idea? Despite falling off the writing horse yesterday due to exhaustion and fatigue, I am still feeling like a writer again, which is a huge relief. Whenever I go into a fallow phase, for whatever reason, I always worry that I’ve exhausted my creativity and my ability to write and it won’t resurface again. I also worry about that I’ll burn out–but if my hyper-productive phases in the 2010’s didn’t do it, I can’t imagine simply being old and weary has that much power. I also, seriously, don’t feel old. I know I talk about it all the time, primarily because it catches me off-guard sometimes that I am in my mid-sixties. I have noticed that my energy reserves are more limited, but Christ–I had two surgeries three years ago and a serious illness earlier this year–and I never seem to have the time to get rested and healthy and fully recovered. I doubt that I’ll ever do four or five books per year ever again–even if I could, I don’t think I’d want to–but maybe two per year could work for me. We’ll have to see.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again probably tomorrow morning as I have a day jam-packed with stuff I need to get done.

Cody Rhodes is a fine specimen