Hiatus

It's been hard to say much since jury duty completed last Thursday, but I am hoping the discipline of a return to routine will help shake it off. I made it through the process undaunted, without even pausing for a great deal of concern ... yet, when it was over, the impact of having to take away the hope of a whole family was deeply depressing. Even into yesterday, I found little motivation to move - only Mother's Day really got me up and running this weekend. Other than that, I sat at home, accomplished one single query, read nothing, did nothing, never even mowed the grass nor cleaned the house. I felt unpleasant, because impotence is not a suitable state of mind for me.

As it isn't for most people, to be sure.

Still, I am a pouty little girl, and hate unfairness even at my age, and even on top of the hateful feeling of "having" to basically just be mean to someone ... I protest at the thought I've had quite enough impotence to deal with in my life, thank you.

It's probably no more than anyone has to endure. Where we love, we are impotent sometimes. Where we hate, usually more so. Where we care about anything at all, there's bound to be disappointment and frustration - and what else is impotence made of?

I still feel terribly tired, but am peeking up at the sunshine. And sunshine there is. The days have been dazzlingly lovely - even during the trial, but certainly since then. Right now, the green of the world is rich with golden light, gleaming, lush. Dinner is on (I am up to that much - I'm making actual, decent food), and there are strawberries in the kitchen. Soon, there will be peaches and nectarines; probably my favorite fruits. I know myself blessed.

But even that is a source of guilt, and I hover and hedge and turn away from my thoughts.


***


This week, I joined a histfic website, and got a hit here from an author there. (Squee!)

I got a query out. I got another one rejected. The pitch I still need to work on, though.

Life is moving on. At least that I can't blame myself for. That is no guilt.


Times like this, I miss my dad. Dad was good at pep talks and philosophizing. And I miss X. He was good at being next to me just running end-of-day errands, or walking The La. It was always good to take his head in my lap and give him a head rub - or for him to do so for me. Just bein' (not even a need for the final G).

I can Just Be with Sweet Small Sid. But she sure sucks at giving a head rub. No thumbs, and her breath is no picnic.