Things on the agenda today, pressing. AC was on yesterday after all – it was really muggy. Flash-flood producing rains in the afternoon. Must have rained during the night, too. Everything wet this morning. Even though it was quiet in our bedroom for a change (windows closed) and dry and relatively cool, I couldn’t sleep. I was up till almost 1a.m., tossing, turning, and then again at 6a.m., after which I gave up and started my day. Of course I feel knocked out now. Why the toss-‘n-turn night? Not sure, but my mind was on fire with wanting to write a specific sex scene between Anna and X. (my novel-in-progress protagonists). I almost got up around midnight to do so. I suppose if I lived alone I would have.
I’ve been wondering how much sex to describe in this novel-that’s-mostly-still-on-the-drawing-board. I decided “not that much,” but this scene will be “taboo”-based and it will seal X.’s “swept away-ness” vis-à-vis Anna. It’s not heavy on dialog at all (hey, it’s sex), but there are some crucial words. I have to remember how this is supposed to play, and get it down on paper, somehow, today, even though today of all days promises to be much-interrupted. I’m expecting M. and R. around 11a.m.; also, the Home Depot decking materials delivery around who-knows-when, and the V. crew arriving also at who-knows-when to start power-washing the surfaces that need painting. In addition, I’d like to squeeze in my exercise routine, and I need to get to the mall (ugh) for various errands before Friday.
Yesterday was crazy. I finally got a hold of B. Turns out her mother was really sick, hospitalized, etc., and B., on a visit now, has been her resident caretaker. Long story. It’s the usual tale: elderly parent, living alone, etc. But also interesting here: Victoria had a long-lasting winter this past year; Mrs. X. got depressed, didn’t go out, spent long periods just “lying down,” no energy to do anything. Sound familiar? It made me think about how people who still have a job to do, are volunteering or actively serving in some capacity, are insulated from these depression dangers. They’re perhaps also more likely to find cohabitants, co-housing situations so they don’t live entirely alone. It’s something I would like to strive for – have a co-working / co-creating space to show up for, something like an IT garage for fuzzies. Even when you really get on in years – mid- to high-eighties, like Mrs. X. – you can still be involved.