It’s a grind week: sleet, insomnia, creative doldrums. News anxiety is wearing me out. My son has a low-grade fever. I usually rely heavily on music, and this week nothing lights me up.
One of my friends lost his father today. I love this friend. He’s one of the unfamous heroes of the world—a father himself, a man with a comic range of talents and enthusiasms, a practical idealist.
I’m going through a blah patch. He’s facing the death of his Dad.
I don’t have a bold insight into that contrast. I’m just feeling it tonight. We need reasons to move through the unremarkable grindstone weeks, and we need reasons to move through the life-changing weeks.
But what are the reasons? That’s easy to answer some weeks. Other weeks, tougher.
My son had a snow day because we’ve had sleet for 24 hours. It sounds like it’s raining glass.
Last night, I stood outside while our dog took forever to do his business, and I enjoyed the peculiar sensation of standing in a downpour without getting wet — just a thousand little ice bits pinging off my head.
Today my son spent the morning playing video games, reading MAD Magazine, and playing guitar. I spent the morning reading The Road to Character and writing the end of a doppelgänger scene in my novel.
We had lunch midday and watched an episode of Friday Night Lights, and then I took him downtown for his guitar lesson and a dog-food pickup.
After that we made brownies and replaced the other faucet in the upstairs bathroom. The faucet replacement went a lot quicker than last time, and we got to eat brownies as a reward.
Photo by Beth Mickalonis, Flyer Squad Photography