Dedham Vale, Morning, John Constable
This morning’s sky is a sweet blue, light, soft, brushed with a whisper of clouds. Shiny palms, eucalyptus breaking the sky into lace, and miles behind me, the opalescent sea. I’d like nothing more than to stay at home today. Chapter 2 has been giving me fits, but after casting about all week, Randall’s theme finally revealed itself to me: connection–the thread that binds. So glad it’s Friday! This weekend will be full on writing. No meetings, and no social plans except for hanging out with Randall, Deidre, Kenny, and company. The new character who walked into mind did so namelessly. Must fix. Can’t have him standing there staring at me without introducing himself. It’s rude. Guess he’s expecting me to tell him his name.Can’t tell you how tired I am of the zombie run five days a week. This morning it took half an hour–half an hour!–to travel 1.5 miles to my exit at Howard Hughes Parkway. No joke, no exaggeration. I’ve taken to timing that part of the run each day ’cause I used to think it was my imagination, but I’ve discovered that even on a good day, it takes 22 minutes to travel the 3 miles from the Century exit to Howard Hughes, through the traffic horror that is the La Tijera dedicated lane. La Tijera and Howard Hughes exits are only a mile apart. This morning I felt like leaning on my horn and screaming. Really, I’d love to find a job in the city where I live, but I can’t take the grievous hit in salary or afford my expensive medical coverage, with a mortgage and a car payment in the mix. I don’t know what to do so I keep on, keepin’ on. The thread is spinning out, running short. I may not have a choice in a little while. I wish So Cal had a monorail.
Happy, happy Friday! I live for the weekends.