Rambling moody entry here with no particular point. Just saving contents of brain to disk before going to bed, I guess.
Today (Friday) started with a massage at work; a good way to start the work day. And I got some productive work done. And I came home to find dinner waiting for me: Kat B had made me a yummy meal and left it on my doorstep. (This wasn't a surprise; she had discussed it with me ahead of time.) (Oh, and Susan L brought me a delicious chocolate cake yesterday, also left on my doorstep; that too was much appreciated.)
But somehow I ended up spending much of the evening, after dinner, being grumpy and out of sorts. And I got nothing done this evening; it was going to be an evening of polishing my story for Hidden City, and/or editing an upcoming SH story, and/or working on a nonfiction piece that's due soon, and/or reading submissions, and/or reading Mary Anne's novel, and/or watching a movie, but somehow here it is five hours after I got home and I didn't even start doing any of those things.
The whole week's been like that. Time disappearing like one of those nightmares where every time I look at the clock it's an hour later.
The other night I had a dream in which Peter turned out to be still alive. I had a dream like that about Marcy sometime in the last couple years; it had all been a mistake, she had been away, but now she was back. The hard part of that one was waking up from it. This new one, with Peter, I didn't wake up in the middle of, so I only half-remembered it when I did wake up.
Hoping to get some better sleep tonight. I've been sleeping at least as well as usual lately, but finding myself tired all the time anyway.
Tomorrow's gonna be a long day. In the morning I should try to do some of the things I didn't get done tonight; then in the early afternoon I'm going to the memorial gathering Jay is holding for his friends. A friend of mine is getting married Saturday evening, but I'm staying home from that; don't think I could cope with such a large social gathering just yet.
Mary Anne arrives Sunday morning for a couple of days. Monday's my birthday (and Jessica E's, and David H's—and Theo will be 5!). Monday is also when Kam heads off to Texas (helping friends move from here to there). Mary Anne leaves Tuesday, Lola flies to Seattle Wednesday. Hidden City starts in a week; I may end up using it more for retreat than for writing. We'll see. I haven't written any fiction in months.
Kam and I watched a bunch of West Wing episodes last night. Very funny, very cathartic. One of the astounding things about Aaron Sorkin is that although he obviously excels at the rapidfire snappy clever dialogue thing that fills most of each episode and that sometimes has me laughing so hard I can't hear the dialogue, he also writes these heartwrenching quiet moments between two people in which they don't say anything at all and it's enough to make me cry. Now and then I roll my eyes at implausibilities, but mostly I'm too busy being impressed to notice.
. . . My grumpiness is somewhat (though not fully) tempered by being quite aware that I'll revert to some semblance of my natural cheerfulness by morning; all I really need right now is some sleep. So I think I'd better go sleep. More, most likely, tomorrow.