I should have been a princess. Who else could stay here except royalty or the filthy rich?
You could jacuzzi and watch the sunrise while you waited for room service to deliver your latte with two shots of expresso because the warm tropical air makes you sleepy. You could nap at home. You want to soak up all this experience.
After a quick swim in the ocean, you rinse off and cuddle up in the luxurious robe you find in the closet. You finish the latte while going through the notes you made regarding your novel. This should be the final draft after tearing it down and rebuilding things 4 times, doing a lot more research, and outlining the thing repeatedly. Seven drafts should be plenty. Any other story she would have tossed by now, but not this one. It was her life’s work.
The way things usually go for her, it will be published, and movie rights will be sold soon after. Of course, there will be no book signing tours or readings. You see, it will be published posthumously.
I have clutter in every aspect of my life. As a writer, I have kept short stories and novel drafts over the years. I even have the first spiral notebooks in which I wrote poems and short stories. I wrote most drafts using pen and paper because it was easier than pounding on an old manual typewriter. I have filing cabinets and bookshelves full of binders of drafts and notes that ‘I might want to revisit.’ I do go back every 3 years or so to reread some of my favorites. Occasionally, I even tinker with one, trying to be inspired. I don’t remember ever breathing life back into any former efforts.
Another area of my life with clutter is the guest room that I call my sewing/craft room. I have been “building up my stash” since 2013 when I joined a quilt guild. Almost every week, we have fabrics sitting on our “free table.” I have found some really cool stuff on that table. Someday, I need to dig in and make a lot more quilts for charity and use that fabric up. I have cupboards full, boxes under the bed, and even some bins in the basement. Some may call that hoarding. I call it preparation.
I have way too many cookbooks. I started my own cookbook back when my kids were young. My notes are semi-organized, and most recipes have been taste-tested. My goal was to give them a cookbook when they went off on their own. The kids are in their 40s now, so I guess that plan is moot. Perhaps by the time I have great-grandchildren…
I sometimes have these days where my mindset is, “You don’t need all this stuff!” And that is true – I don’t need it. However, I may want it at some point in the future. I suppose that is why I keep it. Just in case.
As I sat at the dining room table, eating my breakfast of BBQ Pork Fried Rice with a good helping of soy sauce, it occurred to me just how much the pandemic has affected the non-infected who are stuck at home.
When hubby asked me, “Why are you eating that for breakfast?”
My explanation was simple, “it has scrambled eggs in it.”
“I see,” he said. Then he proceeded to fix himself a bowl of the same.
Hubby’s modus operandi (i.e., Latin for ‘Method of Operating’, abbreviated “M.O.” on cop shows), has definitely shifted. No judgments here, just observation. Between the two of us, hubby is (by far) the emotionally stable one.
I began to notice little weirdnesses going on with me a couple months ago, nothing as dramatic as breakfast this morning, but slightly disturbing. I imagine that a mental health professional may see a few of them as red flags for – something.
Like the disgusting ‘frat house’ behavior. So far I have managed to limit this to only in front of the dog, but I fear that one day, without thinking about it, I will let loose with a belch that Booger could be proud of in front of hubby or at (egads!) the post office.
If you don’t know who Booger is – read no further. You are too young to be exposed to the confessions of somebody’s grandma. I would hate to be responsible for shattering your naivete.
Meanwhile, I go about my day apologizing to my dog for each gross noise I create, but I am not ashamed. Truth be told – I am getting really long and loud with all the practice. I’m almost proud of myself.
My personal hygiene tends to deteriorate when I’m anxious or depressed, but it has now reached a record low. Why bother to waste time “gussying up” when I can’t go anywhere, or visit anyone? Even the video conferencing does not prompt me to wear make-up anymore. I look so zombified on video with or without make-up. If I do wear make-up it transforms me into a Zombie Ho and who wants that?
Oddly, I find the whole ‘wear-a-mask’ thing highly convenient. No need for foundation or lipstick. And best of all, no need to wear those uncomfortable temporary teeth!
None of my favorite clothes fit anymore. So, I mix and match comfy with not-too-tight. Then there are days I fall asleep in my clothes and I wake up in the morning already dressed. A true time-saver, really. But after three days I get bored with the outfit and I need a shower.
Three months into the quarantine and my house is a filthy mess, I have too many hobbies to want to cook or clean. The guest rooms have been uninhabitable for the last 2 months, and their condition continues to deteriorate the longer we go without any guests. Large bins of fabric and yarn and unfinished projects are stacked about waiting to be organized. The bed is covered with the things I am currently trying to organize.
Our living room is more like my sewing room with a TV. Oh, and when I am not sewing, I’m working on the last few edits to make before I send my novel out into the wild. I will keep you posted.
I like to play DVDs of comedy and musicals while I sew. Yesterday, I ‘watched’ Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band, and had a grand old sing-along for 86 minutes. A great way to finish binding a quilt!
30 Sun Bonnet Sue blocks sashed together for a friend.
Today’s agenda is Zoom Church, then begin cutting out fabrics for the first of three baby quilts I want to make this summer. I still need to design the last one, which will probably be a crazy quilt, if you know what I mean…
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