Camp NaNoWriMo word count: 14,530 (it was 15,550 just a moment ago) as of 8:00am on Thursday, mostly journaling here. I passed 12k words yesterday afternoon and completed the second draft of a book review. Woke in the night and revised an essay, and then overslept.
Revised novel EMD word count is still holding at 74,883
Our walk gave us the tiny fish. We have never seen anything quite like it. You can see its eye about an inch back from the tip of its long, skinny, toothed mouth. Gary says it looks like a gar, but that would mean fresh water and another part of the continent. Also, 13 whimbrels fishing for sand crabs, my fifth discarded cigarette lighter, so many tossed cigarette filter tips that I lost count, an empty two gallon water jug, ruined and abandoned toys, plastic bottle caps, plastic cups, plastic rope trimmings up to two feet long (and mostly green), and uncounted pieces of polystyrene foam, sometimes squashed and discolored from being tumbled in the rocks. One piece of plastic nearly passed as something else—a reminder that plastic does not burn away but melts into a lump, putting off toxins in the process. It was a good walk high in the rocks on our way north and down by the tideline on our way home. We barely got wet.
I sanded down my grandfather’s breadboard and oiled it with mineral oil. Gary worked some more on the apartment. We went shopping for groceries and supplies for the apartment, and then we came home, ate lunch, and took a nap. Third coat on the door and frame, and we both scrubbed some more. I think it might be cleaner than our house. Actually, I am pretty sure that other than the living room floor, which will not be scrubbed until after the door is install, it is cleaner than our house. If I had the money I would replace the laminate counter with recycled-glass and an undercount sink. It is a precious space.
Eileen Fisher has a beautiful tunic in a color I love and a price I can actually afford. But wait, now that I am retired, when will I ever need “work” clothes again? Ha!
In the mean time, the Borowitz report is having a tough time coming up with more outlandish satirical news when the real news is so outlandish. I am trying not to read too much with T in it, but even so . . .
I started a Louise DeFleur story in my regular paper journal, but I need to sit with a timer and force it out of my head and onto the page. Today, we are still cleaning. I will order a blind for the bedroom. The rain has let up as I write (it’s 4:34 in the morning). There is wood all over the beach, or there was the last time I checked in daylight: branches, logs, and a pallet right out in front. If we had not been so busy working on the apartment, we’d have gone out for a second walk for a closer look.
I am ashamed to admit I left the lid off the paint can last night. Gary did not win the lottery.