The Neglectful Blogger

I've been neglectful of the blog, mostly because I have been working on my writing and trying to figure out what I am going to do with my work life for the next three months. I haven't heard anything from the agent yet (it does take some time). I have learned to do lots of constructive things while waiting, including:

Wash, vacuum, and wax the car (Turtle Wax is really an exercise in mindfulness and slowness, I'm convinced)

Take all my floppy disks that have one file apiece on them (in boxes and stacks all over The Office) and start transferring the info on them to a CD for storage (the "clean" floppies then go upstairs, so soon we will have 8,000 more of them by the upstairs computer)

Clean the bookshelves and actually put the books upright in the shelves, instead of on other books

Make up a "Rules of the Bathroom" list for the downstairs bathroom (which the kids usually use--the list runs to "wipe all the water off the floor" and "hang up your wet towel." My children are truly in touch with their Inner Hippo--they like to loll in the bathtub, then rise up slowly and drench the floor. I don't observe this happening, of course, but I surmise this from the tide pools left on the linoleum)

Work on that darn afghan I've been crocheting (yes, in granny squares--but it's nice yarn)

Ditto for the quilt I've been putting together since the '90s.

Deadhead, fertilize, and prune in the garden.

I AM TURNING INTO MARTHA!! Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! It's better than thinking about what's happening over at the literary agency, though. If I have to go through more than one agency query, at least one of the side results will be a lovely garden, a clean car, a bathroom without a lethal floor, and an afghan to hide under when the tower of floppy disks threatens to crash down on me.

I did have an odd dream about it last night, though (no, not the afghan). I dreamed I was in front of a white cinderblock wall which had a rather incredible property--you could ask the darn thing "yes" and "no" questions, sort of like the Magic 8-Ball. I had a moment of lucid dreaming--very rare for me--in which I consciously asked the wall if this literary agency would take me as a client--and the word "Yes" popped out of the wall! So, last night I literally read the proverbial "handwriting on the wall."

That's enough for the night. Namaste.