So I was going to go shovel the driveway at Mom’s this morning when I came over all sore and tired. Figured I’d better go get a bit more sleep first. Now I’m waiting for the Naproxen to settle my back down, and thinking I’m not going to make it. *sigh*
I’m in the bedroom at my makeshift writing desk, drinking coffee, listening to Billy Joel, looking out the window at the snowfall, and not seeing it turn to slush because that’s just below my line of sight. To me, it’s a lovely snowy day. Except that I can hear the cars and buses (that I should be on) driving by on the wet road. Cold enough for snow, but not cold enough to keep from melting on the wet, slushy, icing-over concrete and asphalt. It’s going to be a disaster if we need to go anywhere today, because Dawn’s in arthritic pain and will doubtless need her cane for any amount of travel.
The streets around here still aren’t completely clear from the last few snowfalls, because there are still a few too many people out there who believe snow shoveling is somebody else’s problem. Just saw my superintendent go by with a snow shovel. He’s not one of them. Mind you, he’s Quebecois, and likes snow. That’s one thing we share. Not the Quebecois thing. The snow thing.
Whenever it gets like this outside, I always feel like I should be doing pretty much what I am doing these days: writing. So, in a sense, I’m living the dream, although, frankly, it’s a meager dream, considering my debts and lack of audience to pay for this rather extravagant career choice. As my old friend David Jones might say, I’ve put the cart before the horse.
Which reminds me, I really should get back to work on that story I was writing. I’m not sure if it’s the story I need for the Amazon Singles thing, but it’s getting closer to the mark. There’s swearing, but no graphic sex. I think I can maintain at least a PG rating on this one. I just need to formulate the rest of the story, because so far I’m sort of making it up as I go along, which I’m pretty good at, but a plot might be nice, too. Once again, it’s a story that started as an expository third person omnipotent telling, and since starting over, I’m writing it largely as a dialogue piece. I find my dialogue isn’t as cutting or as poignant as some famous writers, but I get by.
Time to get back to work. Have a great day. Thanks for reading.