After a nice long weekend in which I ate too many toasted marshmallows, I returned to writing today and wrote four full pages. I'm up to page 71 now, 73 if you count the pages I imported from an earlier draft but have not yet placed. I think the sex scene is somewhat improved, and I was pleased to move on to the more conflict-ridden moments (like when she discovers she's pregnant), which I'm much better at writing for some reason. Every guy I know likes the 90s girl band Garbage: I know how to be happy, but I guess I write better about rain.
The habits of my neighbors become more intelligible the longer I sit in one place every day; domestic scuffles, daycare arrangements, single parents in conflict with their exes...it all goes on in the raging emotional maw of Building Six, across from the calm-but-loud Building Four, where we live. The same people walk the same dogs at the same time. The same kids tote the same backpacks into their doors at 2:30. The pregnant woman looks more pregnant every day, though her sick dog appears to have died, since during a fire alarm in that building, she came out with only one. In the dog's last days, it refused to eat anything but Wendy's hamburgers, which she faithfully went out and bought every day. I'm a vegetarian and even I like that story.
Meanwhile, at some point in the last eleven years, a paper wasp (or several) started making a nest in the way-back of my car; I noticed it this weekend when we were unloading groceries. It's unfinished, but what a surprise it must have been for those wasps to come back to where they thought their nest was and discover it gone, or moved several feet, or gone one day and back the next. No sign of the actual insects, but how very strange.
Off to put on my goggles and wetsuit so I can give the dog a bath. It takes a while for a schnauzer to stink, but here it is.
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