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Woke up at 6:30 A.M. I can bloody sleep in, and I woke up with the room still dark. Woke up enough that I knew it was useless to lie there. I left Jon asleep. I told him where I’d be and what I’d be doing, but not sure he was awake enough to really answer me. We’ll see later. Dogs have been out. Pippin proving again that he does not have a good enough recall to be off leash. He’s really good at sit, and stay is okay. He’s even really, really good at recall from across the yard when Jon and I take turns taking him off away, and the other one calls him back. But I think he thinks it’s a game, so without both of us there playing the game, he gallops off to the neighbors yard. Tea is making and the dogs are wondering why the hell am I not feeding them instead of typing at this damn thing. I don’t think I have a good answer for that. Maybe it’s that I’ve been typing my ass off for months. To suddenly stop would be like going cold turkey, so instead of you guys getting fewer blogs like I typed yesterday, you may get more. Who knows?
Darla is reading the book, why isn’t Jon? Because he’s on recovery duty. I finish a book, any book, and I get almost depressed. Lost and mopey, wondering through the house from room to room, because I don’t know what to do with myself. If it’s during the week, I wonder from office to office making it impossible for anyone to get anything done. I started calling it the little lost lamb, because that’s how it feels. Then a few hours after the anxiety hits. I’ll do at least two days with gloom vying with anxiety, back and forth, like mood swings. It happens after every book. It just does. Don’t know why. So Jon has his hands full this weekend, because I’m messy. He’ll have to take care of the writer before he can take care of the book. We can both be pretty moody from time to time, that artistic temperament, I guess. Who knows. I’m going to drink the first cup of tea of the day, finish cleaning up the surprises that my dogs have left in the kitchen. Then feed the little buggers, and then I think I’ll go out to breakfast. Out not to find a place to make notes, but to just go out.