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Feb. 26th, 2021 12:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
healingmirthI have told myself literally every day for the past month and change, "OMG just go post anything. Literally anything." And yet I have failed to do so. A couple minutes ago, I clicked through to take a silly quiz and the first question is "pick your favorite season" and I honestly have no idea. Did I know the answer to that question this time last year? Or at any point previously? I have no idea.
***
I'm thinking about WIP amnesty-ing some fic tomorrow. There's a couple stories that I've been telling myself the same handful of bits of for many years now, and they haven't evolved, and I haven't added to them, and they're just never going to be more than they are at this rate.
***
We had a hurricane last summer, and my little neighborhood, which includes a gas station and about 14 restaurants and a couple hundred residences and a train station and the intersection of a state highway and I-95 lost power for SIX AND A HALF DAYS which is still bonkers to me. And then, because #2020 I kept forgetting that was a thing that had happened.
Prior to that, I had sort of settled into manageable pandemic mode. I was making gradual progress on decluttering from my decade in this house, and even some of the boxes that had moved here with me and gotten shoved into a closet or the garage, never to be considered. And then I spent most of that one weird bad week worrying about a COVID spike because of thousands upon thousands of people who'd changed their patterns to cope with days of no electricity with, like, kids to feed and care for and entertain. Oh, honey. Wow was that week not the problem.
I've still accomplished some things, but not the housecleaning things, and it's not the same as those stories I'm never going to finish telling, but there's a mode there of busy hands and meandering thoughts that I think I could get back to with so very, very little effort.
***
I'm thinking about WIP amnesty-ing some fic tomorrow. There's a couple stories that I've been telling myself the same handful of bits of for many years now, and they haven't evolved, and I haven't added to them, and they're just never going to be more than they are at this rate.
***
We had a hurricane last summer, and my little neighborhood, which includes a gas station and about 14 restaurants and a couple hundred residences and a train station and the intersection of a state highway and I-95 lost power for SIX AND A HALF DAYS which is still bonkers to me. And then, because #2020 I kept forgetting that was a thing that had happened.
Prior to that, I had sort of settled into manageable pandemic mode. I was making gradual progress on decluttering from my decade in this house, and even some of the boxes that had moved here with me and gotten shoved into a closet or the garage, never to be considered. And then I spent most of that one weird bad week worrying about a COVID spike because of thousands upon thousands of people who'd changed their patterns to cope with days of no electricity with, like, kids to feed and care for and entertain. Oh, honey. Wow was that week not the problem.
I've still accomplished some things, but not the housecleaning things, and it's not the same as those stories I'm never going to finish telling, but there's a mode there of busy hands and meandering thoughts that I think I could get back to with so very, very little effort.
