the mouse will play. That's the saying, anyway.
This is the thing: Babies or not, I have dreams, damn it, such as being a creative artist and writer, and living in a clean home. I might as well work toward those dreams, because if the children thing never comes to pass, then I've got to do something with all those future childfree years (not to mention this present time between fertility rites) besides work, sleep, surf the web, and watch TV. So, along with trying to find wheat grass and burdock root and a good acupuncturist, I'm going to keep plugging away on my writing, my art, and the stack of dirty dishes beside the sink.
A~'s out of town, thank goodness, because he would not appreciate the towering heights of this particular stack, nor the paint tubes and laundry scattered on the living room floor, let alone the fact that I bought two Sunday papers this weekend, the local (Providence Journal) and the nyt (New York Times), which is likewise strewn around our apartment. "You can read it for free at the library," he's been known to say, which is true, and God knows I'm there often enough.
Usually I share A~'s tightwad sensibility. I rarely buy any reading materials at all. But it is also true that I never read newspapers at the library. Can't be bothered. I only go to the library to chat with my beloved librarians, and to pick out books and the occasional DVD, which, unlike newspapers and magazines, I can take home and peruse at my leisure. Maybe someday I'll carry a torch for an actual newspaper subscription, but for now, I'm happy with my occasional Sunday plurge.
I am inspired today by the thoughts of Hugh MacLeod, writer, cartoonist, blogger extraordinaire. At the risk of losing any potentially loyal readers to his clearly superior, long-established blog, I will link to his advice on How to be Creative. It's worth checking out.
Happy Monday to all!