I thought I lost my socks under my desk, but when I surfaced to look for a flashlight, I found out I’d put them right next to my coffee mug.
I suspect that’s just how today’s going to be. Sir Boxnoggin is In A Mood, Miss B is likewise encumbered by thoughts above her canine station, and the running togs I had set out for today happen to include my least favorite sports brassiere. Woe, woe is me.
I’ve been reading Halberstam’s book on the Korean War, and so far my takeaway is that the Republicans have been self-righteous asshats since the beginning of the New Deal, Douglas MacArthur was criminally negligent of the men under his command, Truman was a lot better than America deserved, and Acheson was at once horrible and completely committed to his country. I can’t wait to switch to some Violette Leduc to get the horrid taste of American history out of my mouth.
On the bright side, I won’t be spending as much time in the car for the rest of the week, and, gods willing, for the next six months. I like having my own transportation, but I’m bloody done with having to eat lunch in the driver’s seat. Food never settles right when one does so.
The dogs are pretty much done with Mum Leaving the House, too. Every time I go to the mailbox, even, they greet me as if I’ve just spent six months in the Arctic and they’d suspected my early demise. Sir Boxnoggin, in particular, gets extremely athletic when welcoming me back from the trek. God forbid I leave my office carrying purse-and-keys, he immediately begins to act like I’m abandoning him to a cruel and inexorably lonely fate. Even watching the squirrels attempt to steal birdseed on the back deck doesn’t cheer him up when I’m gone, apparently, which is hilarious because he’s been here barely a month. I expected him to bond with one of the kids, but I guess since he sleeps on my bed, he’s decided I am The Hoomin What Must Be Dog’s.
Not that I mind, the goofy little fuzzbutt is a fine companion. I’m just surprised he picked the enforcer of the household rather than one of the kids to cling to.
If I can just stay home for a few days I can get these revisions done and this book off my plate again. I knew the next production process after Afterwar would be difficult, and true to form it’s another big, complex book I’m uneasy about pulling off. Acid-test conditions seem to be the order of the day in almost every aspect of my life, lately, and I’m ready for things to calm down a bit.
That’s all the Tuesday that’s fit to print. Next comes a short run with both dogs, which will no doubt be a cavalcade of interesting and agility-producing experiences. Maybe the bees will give me a pass today.
Over and out.