Humanity

I have a day off.

Except for one lacrosse game, which will be the only one of his I have seen all year. So I’m in it, fully. I actually enjoy lacrosse, its so much like hockey, so violent. (i don’t know anything about hockety, honestly, but i know sticks are used as bats and they are allowed to slam into each other. lacrosse is like that.) If my kid were small, I’d be terrified. As it is, he gets battered. Something about males, I know. but god, its so peculiar how much they love it.

And maybe its a female thing, that I sit and am okay with the brutality, from afar. I can deal with the aftermath just fine, and the distance allows me to feel safe that I am not involved. Weird, right?

So, on this day off, which is sort of sprung on me by my own inability to keep going, I have woken groggy from a night with a ceaselessly barking dog. As I am mostly deaf, you can imagine what a racket he was making. A herd of gazelle? A pack of coyotes? Coven of squirrels? I have no idea. It was forever. Anyhow, I am not feeling the joy of an opportunity day before me. I’m just tired and i suppose, a little grumpy.

I’m supposed to finish up a writing project today. I’d be satisfied with four thousand words. I need to move the story along substantially. But. So far I have made coffee. I have broken the lawnmower in a fairly substantially way, but only after finishing the front. So from the street, I look like I’m handling things just fine. It works for passers by, and it works for me. Its satisfying to drive in and see a little neatness. I’m going to try and fix it soon. wish me someone else’s luck.

I haven’t got final numbers from the plant sale yet, but I’ll be happy to have cash in hand. Maybe I’ll buy some chickens. ? I need to figure out the fencing situation though, I can’t let them free-range anymore, they are getting eat and hit and its just too much. (more brutality). I wish I could let them wander, as they really decimate the tick population. And I hate worrying about going out into grass. My god, this world.

(yeah, no, ticks are not the bigger problems i think we need to worry about. just to be clear.)

also. my washing machine doesn’t feel like spinning. so the clothing is sopping wet. and i need one of those wringers my grandmother used to have. where does one get a wringer these days, aye?

also. i know we all like johnny depp but why do we feel so glib about assuming he is not an abuser? seems like a popularity thing going on right now. its so weird and is making me feel very funny about the whole thing. haven’t we learned anything at all?

sigh. (does this count as writing if i bore several people right to death’s door?)

grayscale photography of front load washers
Photo by Adrienne Andersen on Pexels.com

Humanity

Not working, and the country is on fire, and has been for four hundred years.

well. i’m supposed to be writing, for work. and i’m not. shocking, i know.

this is what i’ve done this morning instead of writing.

laundry. dishwasher. ordered seeds for the yard, calendula, valerian, zinnia, and lovage.

I’m going to figure out what to do with tons of calendula this year. You bet your ass I am.

texted with an old friend who i asked to yell at me and he did.

texted with another old friend who got saucy. it was funny but distracting and i was taken aback.

ate some crackers. made myself an instant coffee (sign of the apocalypse, yes.)

made a schedule for errands this afternoon which include finally watching one of the classes I signed up for, assuming I get another thousand words written.

I found a birds nest in the rhododendron. No eggs yet but I figured out how I can look without touching.

I have no self-bribery system set up. The floodgates are down and I’m not withholding anything and if I want candy, I go buy it, furthering the ‘not working’. This is the complete dissolution of productivity, folks. utter dissolution.

My inner core says the work will still get done. Am I doing drugs without my knowledge?

These are the things guys.

And I’m still not shot because my inspection sticker is out of date. Its’ literally not even conceivable. Right? What about you?

close up photography of zinnia flowers
Zinnias, Photo by Swapnil Chakraborty on Pexels.com

Humanity

Mind smithereens, February.

Dearest February,

I’m so distracted today, my brain is lying in shards around me. I do have writing to do today, and I’ll be pretty lucky if I even open the document. or, I suppose lucky might be the wrong word.

and lest you think, ‘oh kate is so wildly lucky, it doesn’t matter if she works or not.’, I am seriously fucking myself with my inability to focus. Its true though, that I don’t have a boss, and only one deadline this week and I have innumerable hours. So yes, kate is wildly lucky. and totally fucked.

I’ve made the coffee, i’ve got laundry going, I took out the too-full trash and fed the chickens. I’ve got a little headache and I’m drinking water. I’ve been sleeping full-on shittily this week. Sigh.

How does one approach picking up shards? Should I be trying for a sweep? Or a careful one-at-a-time?

Its been brought to my attention, again, the rawness of this writing here, and I’m really grateful for all of you who read it, and have been able to handle it. Keep the faith. Know how much I love that you can handle it. Its a rare crew that can dive and resurface, and then do it again. I see you.

love love,

me

Crate of maple syrup, not smashed to smithereens. No shards here.