If this is Sunday, we must be somewhere
Feb. 12th, 2012 11:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceI do rather love it - going back to a previous discussion about hierarchies of avoidance - that my displacement-of-choice is suddenly writing my book. For years uncounted, work has been the thing I most displaced; but yesterday was just like being sixteen again and back at school, sneaking away from my proper duties to hide up in the library and write. I snuck off down to the Lit and Phil and holed up there all morning. And yup, it was just like being back at school and practising avoidance: everything that I hated left elsewhere, walled off, just for now, for this minute and the next one too...
Why no, I never did grow up, actually. I just grew hairier, and then less hairy.
Today is Sunday, though, and I couldn't do that if I wanted to, as of course I do. So I have shopped for things (sossidges for lunch, and kedgeree tonight) and I may perhaps write some book, but I will fit it in around other stuff that I've been putting off, and book-boxing that just goes on for ever (I have cleared a room! there are no books left in the bathroom! it are a triumf!), and the cold shivery chills of fear that I cannot actually do this thing, and and and.
Actually, the cold shivery chills may be marginally related to the temperature of the house. 'Scuse me, while I go to address the heating. It would be bad if a boy bounced onto me and I shattered. Then the sossidges would burn.
Why no, I never did grow up, actually. I just grew hairier, and then less hairy.
Today is Sunday, though, and I couldn't do that if I wanted to, as of course I do. So I have shopped for things (sossidges for lunch, and kedgeree tonight) and I may perhaps write some book, but I will fit it in around other stuff that I've been putting off, and book-boxing that just goes on for ever (I have cleared a room! there are no books left in the bathroom! it are a triumf!), and the cold shivery chills of fear that I cannot actually do this thing, and and and.
Actually, the cold shivery chills may be marginally related to the temperature of the house. 'Scuse me, while I go to address the heating. It would be bad if a boy bounced onto me and I shattered. Then the sossidges would burn.