eglantine_br (eglantine_br) wrote,
eglantine_br
eglantine_br

For those who read it

I had Marlowe totally give in and have sex-with-the-ex. Ex is now married, and I have to say, I don't approve. Have you ever had the people you love and write, do something that you feel is wrong, and you get dragged along. I am there saying 'No, Kit, you really shouldn't, and he is all 'yumm'

(My muse is a mule, I am sure of it.)

I think he himself has mixed feelings. He has mixed feelings about sex as it is. But I am not sure how clear I have made that in the story so far.

This has been kind of a crummy week. Husband is home enough to be underfoot, but not home enough to be very helpful. (i swear, it is easier when they go to sea...) I am feeling much recovered, but am taking a nasty anti-biotic. It is the kind that gives me horrid vivid dreams. They hare not nightmares in the sense that anything especially scary happens. No monsters or anything, but just an overwhelming sense of doom.

Also I have had the damn goat dream. This is a recurring dream I have, have had for years that the goats I had as a child are still alive and have been starving and neglected for the last 30 years-- shut in their barn in the dark while I went off and got married, etc. I have to go back and face them, and my abandonment of them. I try to scramble around and buy them hay, and find goat chow, and all, and I let them out into the sun, and they are all dirty and thin, (they never were either in real life,) and they forgive me. They are glad to see me! Horrible. I have had this dream over and over, since my mom got ill. It did not stop when she died. Sometimes it is chickens. Chickens are just as bad.

(If the dream seems familiar, I gave it to Horatio once.) The goat dream is a nightmare. I wake up, and am afraid to go back to sleep.

Husband is nice about it. If I am lying there, awake, or out here, with the light on, all I have to say is: "It's the goat dream again."

On the upside, the antibiotics are working. I have more energy, and no icky sick feeling. And my bruises from the hospital are almost gone. No inflammation, no aches, no stiff muscles, no pain in my back which I kind of knew was the kidney but was trying to ignore. No headache. So that is very very nice.

Now I have to head off to the pharmacy for C's meds.

I know, as I study the past, that I have much to be grateful for. I would not have lived to reproduce in any bit of time but the last 100 years. And both my kids and husband would be dead of things we have been easily cured of. Semmelweiss, Morton, Salk, Pasteur, Fleming.... and all the other names that we don't get to know. Sorry to be a medical history dork. But my throat clogs up to think of them. A few nightmares are nothing.

So, off. Spanish when i get back. I'll see if they do anything interesting
Tags: family, real life, writing about writing instead of writing
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