Today I woke up with a sore throat and a bad attitude. It was Monday, and I usually love Mondays because they herald structure, and structure, for a person of scattered tendencies, is a good thing. But today, on the heels of our big Mad Menesque soire, my son's graduation from the U, and myriad loose ends, I sorta didn't want to get out of bed.
I am a bit adrift right now--having passed my novel off to an agent for appraisal, and sorting through the various false starts and stories that could be forever tightened, and the screenplay I have just begun, not to mention a queue of work-work, an overflowing inbox, the beck and call of social media, the need to keep up, respond, reply, etc, I, plain and simple, wanted to go back to being a hostess at a cocktail party.
I ticked off the work stuff, watched the gorgeous Spanish men win a soccer match, and noted that it didn't rain today (although it's still MUCH TOO COLD), and did nothing for my writing. I did not write at all! Not a lick. Bah!
Tomorrow, then.
Congratulate Sam on his graduation! For some reason, I can't find his email address in my ar-chives.
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