wow

First, my comment to  a couple of commenters telling me what their day was like when mine ran to seed - when I ran to seed - and it  is this: I'm impressed. Also humbled.  Your days were far busier and more scattered than mine. I's hard to stay focused, isn't it? Do you find that time goes faster or slower when you have a day like that? For me, it varies. And do you have ups and downs during the day depending on how things are running? Me too. There used to be a popular psycho-babble expression that people said when the pressure was on and things were falling apart, that one experienced an "identity crisis". Not very often. But now, I frequently shift identities and often several times during a fraught day.  It depends, if I'm lucky, on the weather. "Sunshine almost always makes me high". (There goes John Denver again.) That's a good up. But complications that hinder the completion of a task, or gratuitous criticism of a work in progress, or the failure of a new recipe (have you ever cooked bitter melon?  I did, today.) -  any or all of these, plus unforeseen glitches, all, all, all can lead to downers.  Back to the drawing board. Perhaps a new list is in order.  It's a wonder we can keep calm and carry on.

We do though.  Thank you for hanging in there.

now what?

I've reached the end of my day before the end of the day. So what do I do now? Write you, of course. There was no time earlier in the day. After my swim and breakfast I had to go and get some money to pay my cleaning lady, having spent some of her stash foolishly on TTC Tickets. Went through some papers first (always papers) to write the odd note and clip some for later filing and delivering. (I run a clipping service for a number of people.)  Then, since I was going out, anyway, I ran a number of other errands (wine, produce) and enjoyed the weather - beautiful, sunny, crisp fall day. 

Then I finished reading my current book, so close to the end I had to. David Mitchell (latest The Bone Clocks) is a ventriloquist, also a prophet, although that's not hard to be.  Then I  had a nap. then I had a second lunch (last night's leftover dinner, too good to wait any longer). and finally, I wondered what to do now.

Feeling guilty on several different counts, but not guilty enough to spur me into action.  This is where my mixed emotions about my age come into play. I have lived so long and accomplished so little and yet I still have ideas and goals, though they are not what they used to be.  My goals are more personal, having to do with self-discovery and analysis.  What I have done (very little) or not done (even less) doesn't matter much.  How many writers today, accomplished, famous ones, are going to last as long as Shakespeare? So who am I to fuss about it?  But I'm still here, tired right now but I'll do something tomorrow. 

How was your day?