I’ve got to make this writing thing succeed. Today nearly killed me.
I set out at 6:30 a.m. to drive 20 miles south of my house in north Colorado Springs, so far south it looked like I was about to run out of mountains on the Front Range. I didn’t know CO 21 had its southern terminus within the county, or that I’d ever see the place where Powers Road, the long north/south road marking Colorado Springs eastern boundary, ran out.
To think that so many people live in that high, almost treeless plain. And here’s the other kicker—I just realized that I’m back to the same attitude towards small children that I had in my 20s before I had children, i.e., I don’t like them. Dirty, yowly little things with no sense of boundaries. Believe me, I was even more disappointed than you to learn this. It’s a retrograde attitude, and I will have to work on this.
Being sleep-deprived, assaulted by the sun and that relentless mountain wind didn’t help. It’s that way every time I go out. I come back hoping I didn’t insult someone or screw something up because I’m so tired, and the wind here is the death of one thousand blows.
I love the guy I work for but I need to make this writing thing work so I don’t have to help out photographing T-ball teams in community parks. I’m so much happier here in my basement office. Which is another retrograde attitude....
Nothing to do but sleep it off. My time is my own tomorrow, and I’ve got editor’s proofs to accept or reject. Which, as Hemingway might say, is something.
I set out at 6:30 a.m. to drive 20 miles south of my house in north Colorado Springs, so far south it looked like I was about to run out of mountains on the Front Range. I didn’t know CO 21 had its southern terminus within the county, or that I’d ever see the place where Powers Road, the long north/south road marking Colorado Springs eastern boundary, ran out.
 |
| Lollipop Chainsaw Girl says get over yourself. |
Being sleep-deprived, assaulted by the sun and that relentless mountain wind didn’t help. It’s that way every time I go out. I come back hoping I didn’t insult someone or screw something up because I’m so tired, and the wind here is the death of one thousand blows.
I love the guy I work for but I need to make this writing thing work so I don’t have to help out photographing T-ball teams in community parks. I’m so much happier here in my basement office. Which is another retrograde attitude....
Nothing to do but sleep it off. My time is my own tomorrow, and I’ve got editor’s proofs to accept or reject. Which, as Hemingway might say, is something.
No comments:
Post a Comment