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Buckeye of Simmer
Aug. 31st, 2017 09:14 pmToday I woke up and was actually able to talk, albeit in a strangely hoarse and gravelly voice. Very colonelish. It's a miracle! I can speak! Not that I have anything much to say. I decided to go out to the bookstore to work, just to promote the notion that I was actually getting better. I sat in a remote corner to avoid being infectious insofar as possible. I started thinking about my poor forlorn WIP again. While I was listening to panels at Worldcon, I realized that I needed to rewrite large parts of it. I seriously hate that. I like to write things once and be done with them. I don't like to tinker. But one of the things that happens with a first draft is that I work my way into the story, and that means that often there's too much shilly-shallying at the front end. Things need to start happening sooner, and more of them. So now I'm thinking about which things, and how. Although I don't want to. I wanted to just be finished with something for a change, but there it is.
I also went out for a walk later. The nuns were having some kind of a gala on their lawn. I asked what was going on, and learned they were welcoming the faculty at the local Catholic college back for another year. I was tempted to pretend I was one of them, to reconnoiter, and to obtain a glass of ecclesiastical wine under false pretenses. I felt that a really serious novelist would have taken this opportunity for research. But my clothes wouldn't have passed for either an academic or a nun, consisting, as they so often do, of a pair of PajamaJeans and a Stargate t-shirt. Anyway, after the walk I was pretty much done for the day. Recovery is a gradual process.
I'm still worried about my mother. She didn't sound good tonight, and reported having pain in her stomach again and feeling chilled. She actually summoned her helpers and asked them to find her a blanket and warm it up for her. That was a very good move, but I'm afraid she must have been in considerable discomfort, because she normally doesn't make much use of the help available. They were concerned enough that they checked her vital signs, but they were normal. I don't know what to make of this. I would go check on her personally, but I just don't have it in me to drive for two hours. The recovery hasn't proceeded quite that far. Also, I don't want her or anyone else to catch this cold! I'll be seeing her next week. In the meantime, I guess the Duchess will have to handle it.
I also went out for a walk later. The nuns were having some kind of a gala on their lawn. I asked what was going on, and learned they were welcoming the faculty at the local Catholic college back for another year. I was tempted to pretend I was one of them, to reconnoiter, and to obtain a glass of ecclesiastical wine under false pretenses. I felt that a really serious novelist would have taken this opportunity for research. But my clothes wouldn't have passed for either an academic or a nun, consisting, as they so often do, of a pair of PajamaJeans and a Stargate t-shirt. Anyway, after the walk I was pretty much done for the day. Recovery is a gradual process.
I'm still worried about my mother. She didn't sound good tonight, and reported having pain in her stomach again and feeling chilled. She actually summoned her helpers and asked them to find her a blanket and warm it up for her. That was a very good move, but I'm afraid she must have been in considerable discomfort, because she normally doesn't make much use of the help available. They were concerned enough that they checked her vital signs, but they were normal. I don't know what to make of this. I would go check on her personally, but I just don't have it in me to drive for two hours. The recovery hasn't proceeded quite that far. Also, I don't want her or anyone else to catch this cold! I'll be seeing her next week. In the meantime, I guess the Duchess will have to handle it.
