It’s just before midnight, and I’d like like to keep this short because I’m tired, covered in bug spray, and generally “done.” That being said, I often say I’d like to keep this short and end up going on and on nonetheless. This is, after all, what writers do–write. Recently I told my friend Marla that I frequently fantasize how conversations will go and imagine every possible outcome (and that sometimes this drives me crazy). She said, “Marcus! You’re a writer. We imagine.” I mean, I was thinking of my wild imagination was a bad thing, but it OBVIOUSLY comes in handy for the line of work I’m in. My point being that although my wordiness can keep me at the keyboard longer than I’d like, I’d rather have too much to say than not enough.
That would be dreadful. (For a writer. Maybe not so much for, I don’t know, a President on Twitter.)
The reason I’m worn out is because–believe it or not–I’ve been working, like manual labor, most the day. This afternoon I did handyman things for Mom and Dad. First, I installed grip bars in their bathroom to make their getting on and off the toilet (the terlet) easier. (Everyone’s gotta go.) I’d been saying I’d do this for months. And maybe this sounds like a cop out, but I think I knew it was because once I started, I wouldn’t stop. That is, today when I got in the handyman mood with the grip bars, I stayed in the mood. Next I installed a smoke detector. Then I fixed a spring on their dishwasher. “What else?” I kept saying.
This evening, for several hours, I cleaned antique door hardware for my friends Todd and Bonnie. (Outside, which is why I’m covered in bug spray.) A few days ago I put a pile of paint-covered brass hardware in a crockpot with some dish soap. This is a cool trick I learned online–the heat breaks the chemical bonds of the paint, and it just comes right off. Of course, I still had to scrub the hardware today, since the crockpot process leaves the hardware pretty rusty dirty. Again, the internet saved the day. It said I could scrub the hardware with baking soda and lemon juice, so that’s what I did. Worked like a charm.
I don’t have a before photo, so just imagine those decorative plates completely covered in white paint.
After several hours of cleaning and scrubbing (and refilling the crockpot with more hardware), I called it quits. Granted, I could have gone on. There was more to do, and as I said earlier, once I get in the mood, it’s easy for me to keep going. To keep push, push, pushing. But I’m really trying to do better at this. To not cram a week’s worth of work into one day, to not cram a semester’s worth of knowledge into my head in one month, to not cram two days worth of blogging into one night. You know, to stop, dammit. Anyway, that’s what I did tonight at Todd and Bonnie’s. I called it quits. Then Todd and I ate pizza, drank beer.
Now I’m house sitting at a friend’s house, a different friend/house than earlier this week. THIS friend has a hot tub. So whereas, yes, I have other things on my mind, other things I’d like to talk about, I realize that there will ALWAYS be more to talk about, always more to do. So even if I’m in the mood to do these things, so what? Being in the mood, I think, is simply a matter of being focused on something. That is, whatever you fully give your attention to automatically becomes interesting. So I know that I can turn my attention FROM writing TO hot-tub sitting and the world will keep turning. The writing–and everything else–will be there tomorrow.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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It takes forty years in the desert for seas to part.
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