The conflicts this spring

I spent several hours at Bernie’s HQ this morning doing data entry. There was a couple visiting from Colorado who wanted some swag and they got a fair amount. We had the kind of conversation about Hillary that Bernie probably doesn’t approve of, and we lauded the fact that we finally had a candidate we could vote for instead of against. One thing I find when I encounter women of my age who support Bernie is that the primary motive is positive, that he is saying things we want to hear, that he has a history of consistency and strength in the areas we want, and that he is winning rather nicely of late.

I came home after  doing my work, and found that my kitties had, as usual, wreaked havoc in my apartment and were in the process of creating a motor speedway through my living room. They had snarled a few balls of yarn, knocked some books out of a bookcase, and gotten the cupboard door open that conceals their dry food. Their rambunctiousness is caused by the lengthening day and higher sun. They spend mid-day lolling on their climbing tree in the heat through the windows. They had only been running around for a short while when I got home and that was all to the good.

The Red Sox  are playing so that my evenings are now committed in front of the TV. Tomorrow night, I will go to my writers workshop knowing that I am missing my boys of summer.It is hard to think of summer when the wind blows and still gives a windchill, but seeing the men at Fenway gives me hope of a sirocco wind in a few months time. Then I will undoubtedly complain about the heat and humidity.

The problem with all this activity is that I cannot find the inclination to write. I am reworking the novel I thought I would publish a year ago, and I’m not making much progress. I work in fits and starts, without much to show for it.  I have about 20,000 words down, but am already reworking them because they are not detailed enough to entice the reader. This part of writing is not particularly inspiring for me, in fact, more like a slog, and I find little desire or motivation.

Bernie and the Sox are much more interesting to me right now. But it will happen, when the newness of the baseball season has worn a little thin, and the race for president will be more clear in a few weeks. It is sometimes difficult to convince myself that I’m a writer.

What do you think? Please comment!

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