If I could publish books based on snippets of words thrown together… I still wouldn’t be a writer. A publisher perhaps. Not even. Just the clicking of the keyboard typing nothing is better than not doing it at all. Its a familiar feeling. My wrist hurts a bit from moving for TWO MONTHS straight, but other than that; the sound the keys of my NTM (new to me) MacBook Air makes is perfect. Not too clicky, not super invasive if someone else in the room is trying to focus on something. Although when I start typing faster, he’ll still ask if I’m angry typing.
Maybe that’s why I stopped in the first place? Everything I was putting down was angry. Or depressing. Or just really fucking boring. Mostly it was the god awful scraping-whirling-airplane-take-off sound my Sony laptop makes if I ever do anything on it like say, turn it on. I found myself a Lenovo tablet that made up for the anguish of not being connected to the planet (while maintaining my eyesight, which living on my phone has all but destroyed) but I still find that typing on it is not my favourite. Drawing on it on the other hand, is fantastic… I will be in 7th Heaven if I ever get a bigger tablet to draw on but as far as writing anything goes – Macswell Smart is my new favourite tool. Still can’t see worth a shit on any of them outside on the deck if it’s sunny out.
We have a deck now. Well, we had a deck before but I never went on it because it faced a super busy road and there were… circumstances beyond my control that made me super anxious every time I went outside for quite some time. So…
We moved. It’s glorious. That’s an exaggeration. There have been growing pains in the form of downsizing. And non stop frikken rain. Before monsoon season started, I cooked over 50% of my plants (quite literally) that I’ve been caring for with great diligence (mostly) over the past few years. This is why I don’t babysit. Also and exaggeration. I really don’t know anyone with babies. And even if I did, well… No.
There is enough baby action around here with the birds. We moved into a bird sanctuary basically. I find at my tender age of 45, I’m just now beginning to have any interest in birds. Up until I started watching them out the back window of our last house I had more of a “yuck,rodents with wings” or “aaaaagh don’t shit on me” reaction to them. So yeah, bird babies all over the place. Including the one that I found dead on the front porch presumably because it fell out of the beam they’re nesting in. That was completely disturbing after having freaked out the day before that we had bird babies because I’d never seen them up close before. Those are the Sparrows.
The Magpies – well… remember Daisy the dog from Snatch? That swallowed the squeaky toy? These two are now known as Daisy, collectively. Holy shit. Like imagine a squeaky toy being pumped relentlessly for 20 minutes straight at the exact same pitch and tempo. I figured there was more than one but I was amazed and thrilled (weird) when I spied these two side by side avoiding the rain in a comfortable silence I imagine only siblings can share.
Pretty sure Steve wasn’t impressed they were on one of his favourite branches. Oh yeah, Steve is the black squirrel. He’s in the tree ALL the time. I think he’s a homebody like me…