Inspiration strikes at strange times. I’m busy and tired all day, and when I drive home, the writing bug hits me and I have all these ideas. I record a few onto my phone, but by the time I make it home (fighting the usual evening traffic), the inspiration has left me and I can do nothing but wonder what happened. With all my gadgets and moleskins, there are few times where I have nothing to record the flighty moments of inspiration. But recording random thoughts is not the same as writing. When I listened to my notes from the drive home, I realized that to turn any of those notes into actual sentences and paragraphs would be difficult. If I had been at a good writing place when the inspiration struck, it would not have been as difficult.
But I’m crying over dumped garbage. Speaking of garbage, I’m naming today an official ant-free day. While I have not sucked up or seen an ant in about five days (they disappeared right around the time I fell ill—coincidence: I think not), I dumped the remaining ants captured over the last week in my vacuum cleaner into the garbage today. In Seattle, the garbage people only collect once a week, Thursday morning for my block. As of twenty-minutes ago, the Castle is devoid of ants and ant carcasses (at least visibly—I’m sure some still linger in the walls). You know what that means: tomorrow I’ll probably find thousands of them crawling around, just in time to freak out Doolies for her visit this weekend.
Speaking of Doolies, my mother asked me a funny question the other day. She said, “I keep seeing you write ‘Doolies’ on your website when you refer to Doolies. Is that her real name?” Well, I guess it isn’t that funny, but it made me laugh. I don’t remember when I started calling Doolies ‘Doolies.’ If you haven’t figured it out, her real name is Doolies and ‘Doolies’ is a pet name, like ‘honey’ or ‘please don’t hurt me.’ When I missed Doolies, I would tell her, “Why are there so many Doolies in the world?” To which she’d ask how many, and I’d say, “There are millions of Doolies.” Then she’d ask how many Davids, and I’d have to offer the upsetting truth: “Just one.” Yeah, we’re one of those types of couples, you know, the type that talk baby talk to each other and sicken small children and animals with their cuteness. Part of it comes from the long-distance aspect of the relationship. We don’t spend much time physically together (although we spend lots of virtual time together—whether on the phone or in the video-game world, or, as I prefer, both simultaneously), and when we get together, we’re like children. I don’t know what makes us transform, but we’re not the only people who suffer from this type of abomination.
I’m almost back to full health. My congestion, sneezing, and coughing were rather bad today, but I didn’t feel sick physically. Sure, I run around with tissues to catch errant coughs or outrageous sneezes (the type where I squirt large chunks of phlegm onto unsuspecting floors and people), and I sound like a deeper-voiced and sexier version of David. But overall, I don’t feel bad. I’m hoping that when I wake up tomorrow morning, my sickness will be past and I’ll have the energy to return to the gym.
Speaking of writing (okay, I wasn’t really talking about it, but you know it’s always on the tip of my fingers, even if not one of you wants to hear me consternate or complain about it), I did have some interesting ideas on another story as I drove home. As I mentioned before, I had hopes of writing it, but I don’t think it’s going to happen today. After dinner, movie, phone conversations, and soon-to-play video games, I think this is already a full day. I just wanted to say that, yes, I am thinking of writing something other than these everything-is-peachy words, and, no, it won’t happen today, and probably won’t happen for a few more days, as I prepare for Doolies’ visit, which involves much cleaning (both Castle- and personal-wise), and mentally preparing to share my space with another.
We’ve reached the edges of my thoughts for the day; at least the thoughts I wanted to share. One of these days, I’m going to find the energy or desire to share my more philosophical musings, the type I talk about for hours on the phone with friends. If you must know (and I know you probably don’t, but I’m going to share anyway), it’s a matter of effort. The thought of organizing these terribly brilliant sounding discussions into writing gives me a headache. What else is new?