You know when you haven't had sex for a long time and then you do and everything seems weird--like the pores of your partner seem a little gigantic and their genitalia a bit too pink? That's how it feels trying to write after a 4 month haitus. I'm trying to get to it--the job market, Zoe's hospitalization, the kitchen remodel, AWP--each worked to steal whatever writing mojo or motivation I had.
Now, when I sit down to write, my words seem pimply and my sentences awfully raw. I wonder if I can write while Zoe bounces or while I stuff QW envelopes or perhaps on the way to pick up tile????
On another note, or, speaking of genitalia, the lot they want to build on nextdoor has asked for a height and size variance. I want to go tonight to protest but I've gone to enough political meetings in Utah to know that I'll leave dejected and sad. And Zoe won't have that much fun either. But I think we'll go anyway. How can I complain about the 3 car garage I'm staring at if I didn't complain?