Surprised I even have time to write this. 10:22, baths for littles and shower for Jack soon. Keep thinking about tonight and what I’m going to do with my time alone, but the most advantageous plan Is to not have one. CV and letter, apexing aim and priority.
This stress and colossal nerve knot has to be erased, and entirely, indefinitely. Friend sends me a picture of a vineyard estate, one on which I could absolutely see myself. That’s still the aim, just in a bit of a stall with wine, again. Nothing I taste speaking to me, certainly nothing inspiring. Give it time, I guess. What else can I do.
Think about wine sometimes and just ask WHY and WHAT. Why is it so interesting and couched in prestige and luxury, what about it just catches people and causes such stir? Don’t need to answer right now…. Or ever.
Think Henry’s pooping. Awesome. How do I know? Heard those groans from stairwell, out of eyesight but he’s over there flexing and pushing and straining. Get to it in a minute. Need more time to self, this 4-shot latte and every bit of its energy and communication.