August 11, 2018

Triumphant Saturday, which is not yet over. If Sam-sam is a novella. I finished it before dawn. If it’s a novel I have to wait to see where it goes next. Painted rather brilliantly in the studio. Dragged the stepladder out of the closet and changed those hellacious bulbs-in-a-can-in the ceiling. One of them had been dark before I moved here. What possessed Steward, or whoever it was, to put them in? Discovered that there are at least three different kinds, requiring three different sizes of replacement bulbs.

I have so little to write here when I’m writing other things!

After many years, I can sleep flat on my back again.

Johnny Secaur’s birthday. I wonder if he remembers me at all.

Neither my bunny nor my frogs trust me to approach them closer than several yards. This is disheartening. This is tragic.