It being my yard, driveway, basement, and apparently also the neighbor's septic tank and the parking lot of the church behind us. Yes, the water main is still broken, still gushing, though Friday night, some very enterprising young man did spend two hours painting colorful marks on the street and posting little orange flags in my yard. (y'know, the yard that is now technically lakefront property)
And, as part of the neuroses that makes me me, I am of course completely stressed out about a situation I can do nothing about. I am at the mercy of the monopoly that is our water services department.
The downside being that the stress has effectively neutered me (spayed me?) creatively. Project 2 is out to readers, and the query letter is enough to make me commit seppuku. Projects 3 through 5 are at a screeching standstill, and I'm not even sure why. They're just not...alive in my head like I think they ought to be. If this is one of those writerly things I'm supposed to work through, I wish someone would tell me. I even went back last night and re-read most of my work on Project 1 (which is still living on a farm with a nice family that loves it), and just couldn't find that spark to start working again.
I should probably sit down and read something. Reading always seems to kindle something in my creative bone. But even then, I look at the huge stacks of waiting-to-be-read books, and it kind of overwhelms me, so I finally walk away without choosing anything.
Maybe I just need to accept that I'm on a small break, and quit fretting.
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