My most loyal cobweb reader sent me a comment about yesterday’s blog that I will follow up on. Thank you, dear. I was moaning about the fact that I don’t always hear promptly about the departure of distant friends. Marla suggests I make up a list of people I want to be informed about my celestial or earthly whereabouts. Then I just have to hope that my family, not the promptest about writing, will send out the news. If I were a little more famous, I could hope that the media will do the job for me, and publish an obituary. Won’t happen, unless I leave on something fantastic, like the Titanic or a tsunami.
I don’t think a Christmas card list will do; I’ve had that conversation. I’ll work on it.
I have other lists to write, more paperwork to do. I was trapped inside my screenplay rewrite, paralysed, in fact. Not that, for all the focus, I was swift. Not. One lovely bonus though: I found I was writing new scenes while I swam. My wet meditation was quite productive.
See what turns up tomorrow.