October 31, 2018

Maud pissed on the desk in the living room, wetting the work list for my show and the pile of bills I had laid out for paying. Out comes a step ladder to drape them on to dry until they can be written on, sealed, paid. I hope the recipients can’t guess what happened, why the ink is smeared and the paper wrinkled..

Made the appointment to see about my never-ending exhaustion. My conviction is that most things just go away: this hasn’t. I realize that part of my postponement was anxiety. If I need surgery and convalescence, there is no one to look after me, no one to look after the house or the sick cats during whatever absence might be necessary.  I did not make this bed; nevertheless, I must lie in it.

Read Frost’s witch poems in class for Halloween. Planted one final scarlet tree peony.