Days Like This

Greetings on this rainy Tuesday afternoon. Monday’s post on Tuesday isn’t  too bad, all things considered, Right now, I am ensconced in my blanket nest, in the corner of the living room, casting longing glances at a recently repurposed notebook, and thinking about tea. I am usually thinking about tea, so that is not such an unusual thing.

Skye’s ashes came home this weekend, in a lovely container, and a thoughtful card from the animal hospital. We have her on the windowsill, next to the green ball she loved to watch, and it honestly does feel like she is around-er, so I am going to call that good. Still not the same as having a cat-cat around, but still counts for the mews factor.

I have the newest episode of one of my favorite current TV shows paused, because, while I want to see what’s going on in this story world, and how the characters are handling it, I also want to listen to the silence. Silence, in this case, that consists of traffic on wet pavement (one of my three all time favorite sounds) and rain and the clickety-clack of fingers on keys.

It’s a writing kind of day (but aren’t they all, for us writers?) so it was the perfect time to get current-ish on blog entries. I had breakfast with N this morning, as usual on a Tuesday. We talked about current and future projects, and, more than once, I had to whip out a sticky note and make a few quick scribbles, because inspiration works like that. I came home, hoping to transfer sticky note scribbles into their proper notebooks, which will still happen, though I now also have two pages of notes from an impromptu Skype session with my contemporary collaborator. Collaboration works like that, sometimes. There will be some arrows drawn on my weekly schedule, to move things around, but that only means I get to play with more pens, so still a win.

Real Life Romance Hero’s work would have been outdoors today, which means surprise day off, due to the rain. I will not complain, as this means impromptu lunch date, even if I had to make the lunch, but I digress. I want the sounds of my own stories in my head right now, so the TV and even Spotify remain silent. A few strips of washi tape turned the notebook in front of me from a utilitarian object that elicited a lukewarm “meh” response, into a welcoming receptacle for some words.

In a few minutes, I will get up and make tea. I will think, as I do, of the jolt of pleasant surprise, when I saw the same model of mugs we use, as props on another TV show. I know where you shopped, Property Master. I have no idea why this pleases me as much as it does, but, today, I will take it. Later, I will vote. The poling place is so close to our apartment, here that we could walk, and we may. That depends on how heavy the rain is at that time. I have asways bene partial to rain, but my suede-ish shoes beg me to reconsider. Leopartd print rain boots are still in storage, no doubt laughing at me, because couldn’t I have seen this rainy season comin?

Maybe so, but there have been things going on, okay? Here is a tip for any new writers among us: there will always be things going on, always somebody who needs a minute, etc. I could say that we need to learn to let them roll off us like water from a duck’s back, but that’s an easy comparison, facile, even (please read that with a disdainful sniff; it conveys the proper tone that way) and Get Stuff Done. That is, usually, the plan. Theory and practice, though? Not always the same thing.

Which brings us back to today. I am here, still wearing my responsible adult going outside disguise, because I am not changing twice, today. There is only so much time I have today, before voting and other errands, and I want to make the time count. Blogging is part of that, but not all. There is also research to be done, questions to bounce off my RWA sisters and brothers, to glean wisdom from more experienced minds than mine. There are the click and the whir and the hum of my CPU, inches away from my ear,and I am reminded of why getting up for tea when I work from my blanket nest, is as important as it is. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, one of my feet is going to go to sleep, which means I will have to shake it out, pull myself to standing, walk for a bit, (definitely get that tea) and then settle down, once again, to get in some more time of playing with  my imaginary friends, before I turn my attention to things like civic duty, and ensuring that RLRH can have something more than the last sleeve of Ritz crackers, that crumble at human touch.

There are days when writing feels very far away and out of step. This is not one of those days. This is the kind of day when being a writer is the most natural thing in the world, and I will be more than a little grumbly, when it is time to power down and head outside. Until then, I can post this blog, tick that off my list, make that tea, and, if I play my cards right, spend a few minutes, warm cup in my hand, eyes closed, listening to the music of ran and road and computer hum. Ideas grow there.

Tea time.


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