Little sluggish from lunch.

Veggie burrito from up the street.

Bored, or not so much bored but restless and no idea what to do.  Have a little bit of my iced coffee left from this morning.  Then what….

Spent way too much time with some clients I inherited.  Not much calling done, nothing sold, some numbers shared with prospects and now the day just winds down, closes itself.

And I’m truly bored.  Yes, I’d say bored.  And I’m writing about it.  Doesn’t that make it writing if you know the author isn’t into their own words, lines?  Maybe I should just go to bed now.  If I didn’t I’d definitely be up by 4 something, hit pavement at 5-something.  Restless feeling, indecisive as anything I can think of.  Should just go for a drive.  To Oliver’s, or Safeway.  Don’t think we need anything in terms of groceries.  Just go for a drive..  get some wine, or something.  Salad for tonight.

Nothing here to photograph…. BORED, this goddamn corner.  

Sanitizer, phone, pens and post-it’s, keys and a memory stick/bottle opener.

Take this as the project itself, I say to my own inner-ears.  Make something where there appears to be void and bland repeat.  Should be making calls or doing something for work but not.  Emma outside whining about something, not sure what… Melissa on a Zoom call with other teachers trying to figure out what to do in the Fall and into next year.

Fucking covid.

Fucking desk.

Yes, I need a drive, to the store.  And take the longest way possible.  Take your time, once inside.  Look at wine, cereal, candles, nuts, milk, deli meat… people… everything.

Food haze starting to fade, but the bleh of this room and the covid cloud persist and pummel away my excitement for anything.

If I weren’t here and unable to canvass, I’d be in the field.  But I’m not.  And the virtual steps…. yes.  Not now.  Not in the mood.  And I don’t have a mood, I simply am not capable of deciding what to do.

Emma complaining outside disrupting her mother’s call now coming inside … telling me she wants to watch a movie I follow her into the family room and put one on….  Think that it’s easy to write when conditions are just as you want them to be, when you’re “inspired” or uniquely antagonized to write.  But when you can make yourself write when you’re not interested, slow or sluggish from lunch or anything else, that’s something to note, something to follow and build.

I take a picture of the desk, as it is, right now.  Get an email I have to answer, regarding one of the difficult inherited’s.

I can’t just blame covid.. throw my hands up, put soles on desk and just say with fingers locked behind my head, “Eh… covid.”

Still feeling bored.  So, I write a novel.  About what…. A winemaker, studying other winemaking styles and cultures, the world… she wants to see the world.  Another book… then write another.  Opened a Chardonnay, MacCrostie, not sure of vintage and note sure I spelled the name right.

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