A useless day—or a day when I was useless

My brother and me, in happier days
Truth is, probably no day istotally worthless; each has some redeeming quality. But I am hard put to findmuch good about today. No, it was not a bad day. It was just a day, a plainday, one when I didn’t know what I wanted to do and did almost nothing. Ichecked emails in the morning and made chicken salad for our dinner, so itcould cool and blend its flavors in the fridge all afternoon. And then Ifiddled, manufacturing things to do, avoiding what I’d set as my goal for theweek.

You see, I’m almost at the endof the first draft of Irene in a Ghost Kitchen. I have the end—the climacticscenes, if you will—in mind, and I think I know how they should go. But I am avoidingputting the words on paper. I think in part I’m afraid to ever call the silly,short book finished, and in another part I’m afraid the end won’t work out as Iintend it to. With Irene, one never knows. The entire cast of characters couldtake off in their own direction and spoil what I think are my plans. So Ipiddled.

And I didn’t know what to blogabout. It’s been a different day—my brother is in the hospital again, just downthe street from us. I knew last night they had requested transport fromGranbury to Fort Worth where his cardiologist is but there were no beds at thehospital. And then all day today, I knew nothing and was afraid to call, maybebecause I didn’t want to intrude or interrupt and maybe because I feared badnews. Finally at six o’clock, I called, he answered, and we had a short butsemi-reassuring conversation. When I asked if we should come visit him, he saidhis dance card was already pretty full. And then he said it was complicated toget there, and I thought he was thinking of me in my transport chair. I havefound in the past that hospital has a lot of twists and turns, and you can getlost if you don’t know where you are going. So we will talk again tomorrow.

Also today, Jordan’s new catwent to be neutered, which didn’t affect me much but did throw a monkey wrenchin scheduling. They took him eight and were to pick him up at three. Then Icalled Sophie’s vet because we discovered an abscess on the back of her neck. Ihad a faint hope he would prescribe antibiotics over the phone, but no—he wantedto see her. Diabetes complicates infection. Jordan took her at eleven and, tomy dismay, they kept her. Then they called and said she could go home at three.Schedule conflict! No way the kids could have the dog and cat in the car at thesame time. It all worked out: they got the cat, Jordan and the cat came home,and Christian got Sophie about four. She is home, has some antibiotics, and mywallet is a lot lighter. But I am grateful she didn’t spend the night.

Last night we had a farewellhappy hour for my Canadian daughter and her husband—I fixed a spread instead ofjust a light snack, because I knew they would have packed their kitchen andcouldn’t cook. Pigs in a blanket, devilled eggs, veggies with a dip, olives,pickles, cherry tomatoes, etc. We had a pleasant evening, and I worked to avoidtopics on which we disagree, but somehow the subject of money ruling the worldcame up. Reluctantly I realize it’s true, but I hate it; she accepts it with adegree of cynicism that frustrates me. When Sue said she as always provenright, I didn’t remind her that she had absolutely guaranteed that trump wouldwin in 2020 because money rules—and he didn’t. But I hated that a touchysubject came up when who knows when we will see them again.

So maybe all that baggage wason my mind tonight and kept me from writing or, until now when it is almostmidnight, from blogging. Who knows how creativity works? Tonight, because I asso at loose ends, I took a nap about eight-thirty and that was when I reallycame to grips with how out of sorts I felt. So I got up, came to the computer,and deliberately wrote three sentences. And I felt the muse kick in, I knew where I was going. It was too late to keep at it, but now I’m fired about tomorrow. I had promisedmyself I’d write a blog post first thing in the morning, so I turned to thebook I’m currently reading. And then it occurred to me that if I wrote the blogtonight, I could go right to the novel in the morning. And sort of what Iwanted to say flitted around in my mind. So that’s why these cobbled togetherthoughts on creativity and indolence.

Sweet dreams all. I hope Idream of Irene wrapping up that story in her usual fine style.