What a pleasure to come here and see comments! While it doesn’t feel exactly like the old days of OD, it has a similar atmosphere. I miss those old days, but maybe the new days will be fine.
My life has changed a lot since the OD days. (Open Diary, for those not familiar with that now-defunct site.) I’m still moving around rapidly in my own little circle, but not constantly across the country and back. Those were travel writing days. These are fiction writing days. And I also have a “day job that I love too much to give up,” which I probably should have given up some time ago. But it does get me out of the house, pays my medical insurance, and keeps me from living in a fictional world all the time. Admittedly, reality does feel like fiction, and at times I wish it could be.
I’m home sick today with something going around that everyone seems to be calling “the crud.” It’s fine. I have cough syrup and cough drops and, of course, coughs. I’m indoors, under the covers, with my laptop and gargantuan amounts of water nearby to drink.
I’ve been mourning the loss of my beloved corgi/shepherd mix, lost over the Christmas holidays. Bad seizure one morning, amidst sparkling lights and ornaments and all things supposedly cheerful. It is a grief that seems to only be understood by those who have been through it. I see her everywhere, but she’s invisible. I talk to her, but her tail wag can’t be seen. I would surely sound crazy if someone heard me talking to thin air. I break down over the tiniest things. I feel abandoned, and also as if we abandoned her by letting her go, though all agreed it was time. Almost 16, a good, long canine life. She was special, oh so special. Even our vet cried. But it will be OK. I know it will.
I worked myself into a frenzy this past year by taking on too much. I thought I’d learned this lesson decades ago, to limit myself. But it seems I saw myself as three people this past year, each with 36 hour days. A delusion, for sure. On the upside (says my sarcastic self,) I only collapsed and ended up in the ER once, so it could have been worse. I’m alive now, with a day job schedule that has been trimmed to 4 days/week, with plans to downsize to 2 days/week before the end of this year. Well, OK, supposedly by May, but…
Today I’ll look out the window at the magnificent local mountains, safe and warm and sheltered from the -8 temp, under a down comforter. And I’ll try to figure out exactly how a leading actress fell from a catwalk and died, cell phone, small rhinestone purse, lipstick and comb at the scene. Was she pushed? Why was she up there? Is there some sort of clue on her cell phone? I’m not sure, but I’m figuring it out.
And thus life and fiction blur.
xxoo, FiM (Gosh, I’ve missed that nickname!)
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