#uncoffeed...

You know this one: I went out to get the mail but I could not just walk past the bucket, the hedge clippers, and the weed-monster. The stand of poke-berry was taller than I am; I wish I'd taken a before-photo.  We aren't ready for the after-  yet; the area looks like we're midway through a Marine's first haircut. I do yard-work only when the landlords aren't home. It's not like they'll rush out and stop me, but I'm preventing an unknown awkwardness which makes sense to my inner mind. Some weird balance is struck; so be it. It took a year of living here before I was comfortable making moves against the foliage. At first I wasn't sure how many of the cars coming and going actually belonged to the household or who was in charge of what duties. Since the kids moved out, and it's just Mr. and Mrs., I have a good sense of what gets done and why - time and mobility limits most likely apply. Also, I now get paid to feed their cat when they ...

I was up shiny at 6:00 AM today.  I'm going to try to make this a habit - wish me strength because luck's got nothing to do with it.  I need to change the state of play and garner more useful results for my efforts. I say all the time that I'm allergic to waiting: it makes me itchy.  The submission process for publication is very itchy.  I try to mitigate by submitting on a somewhat regular basis so that I get some return in a steady flow.  It doesn't always work well; besides that I have to actually send something, there are many factors that affect the response time from prospective publishers.  Scratch.  I do love my rejection letters, but they are so long in coming.  Scratch, scratch. I have Delayed Gratification Challenges.  I am learning to measure time week to week instead of minute to minute, but it isn't easy for me.  As it relates to human connection the concept becomes infinitely more complicated. Just like with publi...