Cabin Fever

I've got it bad. Part of me wants to retreat to the back of my cave and roll a boulder over the entrance and the other part of me wants to go out and run around spending money. Both parts of me want to do whatever I do alone. I'm going to light a candle and say a few prayers that the Census Bureau realizes that they can't survive without Don's help and hires him--soon, even part time would be wonderful. Having him around constantly is getting on my nerves. I need a bit of solitude to keep my diminishing wits about me and it just ain't happening these days.

That said, I have done nothing to cut down my First Line story. I have to get on the stick because the deadline's in one week. Quit whining and get to work, Barbara!

January 24 & 25--John James Audubon, Passenger Pigeon.

The drab female feeds the colorful male. Isn't that the way of the world? Women keep the homes and bear the babies and raise them, all the while stroking the male’s ego and keeping him happy. Oh, man, this is not the thing for me to write about right now. I need to take a deep breath (which I just did), sit up straight (I am now), and write in a different direction. I should write about the amazing red-orange feet of the male pigeon or the subtle color variations of the female, even the branches from what seems like two different trees that Audubon painted them on. Maybe I should write about the dead leaves or lichens on the upper branch, or my assumption that old John James killed most of the birds he so gloriously illustrated, probably so the damned things held still. Or I could even write about how bloody cold it is in this writing corner of mine, that I’m wearing two sweaters and my feet are still cold, but I just shouldn’t vent my irrational cabin-fevered pique at my lovely husband being at home when I am. It’s just not fair. Or nice.

This is all I'm doing today. Every time I try to accomplish something, something goes wrong. This is the third time I've booted up this antiquated laptop and some of the places I meant to submit stories are no longer in Novel & Short Story and I'm gritting my teeth and... I'm done for the day.
--Barbara