Moving the House - Tourette's Style

A scratching on the door interrupts me just as I'm about to write (not strictly true, as I have no idea what I'm about to type - the past day was only mildly interesting: an eye appointment, a bunch of kava drunk, a strange dream about saving a mouse that turns into a small dog, TV watched and ignored, Indian food consumed - none of it seems worthy). I open the door to the bedroom where I've exiled myself while Katie tears apart the house in a process that is as much about mental health as it is about interior decoration, and explain the nature of my dilemma to her.

"If you need inspiration, I could use your help doing some little stuff before we have to move the big pieces," she says. When I demur, she picks up the rug and recommences dragging it down the hall, shouting, "Dicks!"

10-8-10 a few words on the meta-narrative

This was one of the things that really got me about the concept for this blog (sidebar: if electrons shape words, but no one reads them, do they retain the information after the computer is off?): do I write the morning after about the previous day, but date the entry for the previous day? The deal is, I write, work, think, and am more motivated to do all of those things, in the morning, but nothing's really happened so far that day. At night, I'm ready to lie down, talk with my wife (!!!), watch some TV or read something, and drift off to sleep (it's those darn morning pages I wrote all those years ago that got me in the habit, I imagine). Writing in the morning about things that have happened that day per se leads to lots of posts about commuting, which has its place, I suppose, but is not what this blog is supposed to really be about.