Domesticity

Posted on 09 September 2005

After an extravagant evening last night with friends – for Gill’s benefit, I will mention that we feasted on salmon and chicken; many salads including bean and feta, exotic tomato, Greek potato, lentil; French cheeses, cake and chocolate, and yes, yes, wine and sparkling water – I slept well and slipped down to the water this morning with a coffee. A few yards away, a man in hip-waders was fishing – the only other person on the shore at seven.

I haven’t been writing and have hardly given it a second thought until a woman came in the store yesterday and ask what I was working on. “I’ve quit writing,” I answered. She paused and said, “you’ll always be a writer to me.”

At the moment, I want to collect my thoughts and get my domestic life in order. Our house is falling apart. When a carpenter friend came to repair the deck the other day, he told us that it was beyond repair. Now he is rebuilding it to the tune of eight thousand dollars. As we have two large pots in the front hall to catch rain water, we must also repair the roof – another ten grand, at least. We had intended to replace a truly ugly bathroom but that will now have to wait for next year.

To help with cost, I have been working in the store every day. I will continue not writing unless I can’t help myself but, as Kate has been nudging me to send stories out, or rather send old ones to new places, I will do so. (I cleaned my filing cabinet the other day and am quite proud of the thickness of my rejection-notice file. Long ago, I swore that once I had gathered 150 rejections I would quit writing. I have a way to go.)


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