The first time I heard that, I laughed.
It isn’t funny anymore.
Let’s face it, you worry and nothing happens, your worry is justified.
You worry and it does happen, well then you knew it all along.
And he worried about the heating and air going out until it did.
We is seriously poor now.
I will have to work until I drop dead because now he’s obsessing over the septic system.
And you know his worry will work.
On a lighter note, I’ve finally taken a baby step toward my version of a Hess/Evanovitch style light read novel. I’m working on the Snowflake method. Seems to be simple and organized; the former plays into my preference for following the KISS (Keep It Simple Stupid) principal and the latter gives me a focus, which I lack in spades.
The first step in the Snowflake (thanks Randy Ingermanson) is a one sentence summary of the novel, trying for fewer than fifteen words:
The death of a second-sighted citizen wreaks havoc with the eccentric inhabitants of Armageddon, Arkansas.
Ladies: would you pick it up based on that one sentence? A light read? A weekend of entertainment?
Step Two expands that sentence to a paragraph. I’m working on it. My notes are beside me: a page of scribbles that does have a complete sentence here and there, an editor’s nightmare that makes sense to me.
There are also character notes in the briefcase, index cards with scenes that have played in my head.
As shopping is no longer a viable activity, writing can now become a great substitute.
The push of time toward the winter solstice, the morning darkness, and the anticipation of a dark drive home soon, instills a certain melancholy in all of us I suppose. I find myself experiencing emotions I cannot name, almost a ‘missing’ of something….a curious sense of nostalgia, perhaps? Ah, and yes, my birthday approaches. Sixty is a number, I remind myself. It is not a death sentence.
No…we receive our death sentences at birth.
I’m sure most will find that a rather morbid statement.
Humans. We are all in this together. We share the same sort of entrance and the same sort of exit, and can’t agree on much of anything in the in-between.
Now you know why I’ve been MIA. A cluttered mind can often lead to ennui.