I slept for five hours last night, my dreams--unremembered--not in Technicolor but black and white. I toss and turn until five, til Thistle wakes me at 8 or 9. CG took her today, to parks, Costco; he tells me to sleep and he will get her to sleep and help in getting her to school. Tired, me. There is not much on my mind, except the tiredness grief exacts from me. What is in the ether that I am not yet conscious of? Who knows if it's just the coldness of the weather, the transition to school again, etc. Thistle is so happy about starting school; all her friends are there and I know she will have lots of fun. I will also have a lot of time to work downtown, though unfortunately the places I love most to write are the places m. frequents, but hopefully he will be at work.
I was looking at agents who handle crime writing: one woman is looking for a book as compelling as the NPR show "Serial". I myself am trying to listen to Serial and find it interesting but rambling and not always clear. I think Asha's story is as compelling as Serial, so I am going to try this agent, just to see. Time to quit, for today, looking at computer and Kindle screens, as it overstimulates my brain right now.
I will be resuming writing tomorrow and requsitioning trial tapes from the Clerk of the Court tomorrow. I move a little forward with this every day.
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