vck

  I've been missing in action for the last two weeks. Not actually missing. Just not productive. Haven't written a word in two weeks. Haven't updated the website, or blog. Haven't really done much around the house. I did clean the coat closet in the front hall yesterday. Tossed 25 years of junk. I have a hard time letting go of things. The older something is, the tighter I hold onto it. I've still got emails from 2009 in my inbox. Well, most of those are in folders not actually cluttering up my inbox. Most of them could be trashed.   Along with a huge collection of half written—never will be finished—stories on my computer, in notebooks scattered all around my house, and rambling around inside my head. I can't seem to let go of old stories, or old story ideas. I may find a home for them somewhere. Someday. The problem is, I'm lousy at keeping track of where and when I've released them into the wild. I can't enter any of my old s...

  Wrote 1,750 words today.  Swept and mopped the kitchen and dinning room floors before  Ian brought Midas over around 6 PM. Ian never got around to taking Midas to the vet. He thinks he's okay, even though he still isn't eating much. Ian didn't look well. He looked puny, like he's lost weight since Tuesday.  He complained his throat hurts too much when he swallows, so he isn't eating well.  He also complained about being really tired, not having any energy. Covid sucks. It's 9:30 PM and I'm ready for bed. Midas suddenly started barking at the front door. Ian did not lock it when he left. So I've been sitting here all this time with an unlocked door.   I've been out in the backyard several times . Someone could have slipped in and hidden in one of the bedrooms . Surely Midas would be throwing a much bigger fit if a stranger was inside the house. He doesn't look worried. Neither am I. 

The day started off on a high note. The espresso machine is invigorating. Temps didn't reach 100 before noon. The dog didn't eat breakfast, but he seems feisty enough. And, I was celebrating writing 3,336 words last night.   Then my son tested positive for COVID. Again. His dentist's office routinely checks all their patients before seeing them. Ian is anti-covid vaccinations. Even after going through it once. I've tried to convince him to get a vaccination for my benefit. I'm an old fart. I'm high risk. If he gives me COVID and I die,   he'll feel guilty. There is a strong possibility he has no concept of the meaning of guilt. Which could be a good thing. It could mean he's never done anything bad enough—that I know about—to feel guilty. As his mother, I refuse to contemplate the alternative meaning of a guilt free mind. To test positive today, he was probably a carrier last week. I have seen him briefly during doggie drop offs and pickups th...