All is peaceful and quiet and loving in the house. I love it when things are like this - on an even keel.
Things with the island are somewhat frustrating. Going nowhere. And sometimes, judging from the conversation with Dyke Interrupted, perhaps a little out of my reach.
These are the times when I wonder if I should just forget it all and keep slogging at the 9 to 5 because it's easier and simpler and more obvious. I can see the future on this path, it's fairly prosperous and safe. And I could still afford my holidays and keep you and I and our life fairly intact.
Then I would just have to acquire more discipline and keep plugging away at my writing with a bit more gusto. But I am a slacker at heart.
Maybe all I need sometimes is a space to write. A place where I can retreat to, just you and me and the dogs, no Wonder Boy and his loopy space cadet of a girlfriend to make empty conversation with. No psycho lesbians up the road to gossip about and be upset about.
Maybe if we don't find anything worth pursuing on the island, I should just buy a piece of land somewhere that we can run away to. And call our own. And be at peace with the dogs and I can write and you can be alone with your games and books. Because even on our weekends we are dsistracted with company.
Boy Genius rang me over the weekend to report his sighting of a Roomba knock-off. He's such a dear. He warms my heart. I love, love, love him at this age, innocent and precocious.
We are off on our holiday next week, sans dogs, with kids instead. It will be a welcome break.
I re-read the stuff I wrote some months ago in my boredom at work, and I was surprised at how good it was.
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