I will never, ever learn that when it feels like I'm forgetting something, I'm forgetting something. Do not ignore, do not pass go, because even though you can't remember what it is, you do NOT have everything, and in three hours when you're somewhere else and you remember what it is you forgot on your way out the door, you'll kick yourself for dismissing that feeling yet again. It's always right. I'll never learn that.

. . .

Today I feel uncomfortably fat. My elbows brush against the rolls on my sides; my back has rolls. I feel.. uncomfortable in my skin. Part of it might be the heat: it’s been over 25C for two days and there’s no breeze in this house, even though all the windows are wide, wide, wide. I put on skirts that fit fine last year and I try to tell myself that it’s just monthly bloat, it’s just that the clothes are unstretched from hanging up for eight months; but I know it’s me. I’m eating healthier and I’m walking more; but I’m also eating MORE, even if it’s healthy; and I’ve gotten back into the habit of eating chips, or cookies, or chocolate. I was out of that habit for so long.

. . .

I’m reading Anne Rice's Cry to Heaven again. It’s probably the fifteenth time, and it’s probably my favourite book. The thing about Anne Rice is that her words are so lush and voluptuous, they make me want to write. My novel, the piece of crap that it is, keeps running through my head. I think I’m at a point where I could take it and revise it; I like the world I created but there’s really no story there. I also was so desperate for words, volume, that I just wrote and wrote and wrote, so lots of passages are gross and cumbersome. however, Since part of my plan was to teach myself to describe things, I think I did very well there. Now I need to pare down those descriptions, and build up the dialogue, the story, the characters most of all.

. . .

It’s too hot. I gotta go dig out the fan and try and get some sleep.