Last week I wrote a short story and five pages of my new mystery. That’s a tiny step in the right direction, but nothing like what I should be doing. I’m not certain at what point immobility and lingering depression turn into sheer laziness, but I think I crossed the line a while back.
When the book is not speeding along, look for a writer to clean her closets. I haven’t even done that. Last week I had to find a pair of shoes with leather soles to wear to my ballroom dance lesson. I wound up digging out practically every shoe in my closet looking for a pair with leather soles that actually fit and didn’t have three inch heels. Guess what? I found the shoes, but the rejects are still strewn all over my bedroom.
At some point what I call the gradoo grows to the point where I would prefer to sit on the floor, suck my thumb and read a book. As always. Ain’t gonna happen, or I will end up like the Collyer brothers or that hoarding show on the telly. Gradoo, by the way, is the sort of grunge that collects at the top rim of the dishwasher. It’s essentially uncatalogable mess.
I did get the Pacific cloth I ordered. My next project—after the closet and the shoes—is to get the silver polished and wrapped up so I don’t have to polish it the next time I use it, whenever that might be. Pacific cloth is that felt-like fabric that retards oxidizing (?) of silver. I had no idea where to get it, so Google came to my rescue. Guess what? I ordered it from Amazon. I suspect NASA could order its next nose cone from Amazon. They are definitely a valuable resource for stuff like that. Since I usually read a book a day, I’d probably slit my wrists without them. And they carry my books, bless their hearts.
Our Malice in Memphis writers group has begun accumulating ghost stories for our next anthology. I love writing ghost stories. I’m not certain I believe in the existence of ghosts, but the idea that some part of some of us remains to deal with problems encountered in life fascinates me. I think that if there are ghosts, they are probably like the image that remained on old televisions after the switch was turned off. That’s why I like the movie High Spirits, one of the funniest movies ever made. If you haven’t seen it, rent it. You’ll laugh yourself silly.
It’s spring, even if it snows tomorrow. The jonquils have already come up part way, and I’m going to spend this afternoon driving Zoe, my big old draft horse, and possessing my soul in peace. (I hope). Then tomorrow I face the gradoo. I promise.