8:42 p.m. - Thursday, May. 10, 2007
I'm getting a lot done around here — as much as I can before the mosquitoes hatch and make the outdoors unbearable. But all that work does leave me even more empty-headed than usual. Today I mowed the west side of the lawn, hauled all the grass clippings to the garden, put down newspapers and put the grass clippings over them, made a huge pile of scrap wood from various trees I've cut down over the past couple of years, had a bonfire, fed the birds, fed the dogs, made a pizza, watched The Office. Thrilling life I lead.
Oh, yeah, and I'm sick to death of fiction. Sick of reading it, sick of critiqueing it chez Evil Editor, and I would also be sick of writing it if, indeed, I had been writing it lately. I quit writing to do the coloring book.
This won't last, probably. Every few months I change my personality. Or every few years. And things that I used to adore just bore me, and I've moved on to adoring new things forever-n-ever. I wonder if, when I die, I'll stay dead for any length of time, tee-hee. If so, that'll be the first thing I've ever done consistently.