But I finally figured out that, on the Butcher’s long days, I should come home and eat before going to get him. Oh, what a much better evening than the ones spent hungry huddled behind Nolensville Road. Listening to Music City Roots tonight, though, I decided I’m going to stop worrying about my book being terrible.
It could be terrible and still be fun and do what I want it to do.
Ha ha ha. I hope anyway.
I’m trying to get back on track to have something ready to show people in the middle of the month, but I don’t know.
Ha ha ha.
We have a lot of flattish land that is along railroad tracks or roads in windy areas. Why don’t we have wind turbines?
I am still not in a routine about it. But yet again, he opened his wallet last night and magically paid for some shit we needed. We have (triple underscore) to get his car running again, because this nonsense of me sitting in a dingy parking lot just off Nolensville Road every night is cramping my writing style. I’ve got Pith posts to write! I’ve got a novel to get brought to a point where people can look at it. I’ve got a dog that would like to pee in the early evening.
But it means getting his car towed someplace they can work on it and he’s at work–at his job, thank the gods–all day. So, some shit just has to wait for the weekends.
We’ll get settled in eventually.
But I’m not yet feeling like I’m doing a good job of juggling things.