Pete and my life will change, particularly if the college he teaches at closes next fall. I see this as a distinct possibility. I think that right now, Pete is in denial and that’s not a river in Egypt. We will continue to live simply for the same reason that dogs lick their balls – because we can. We will grow some of our produce this summer, and supplement it with store-bought goods. We’ll get hay for the horses – if this isn’t available, I’ll figure out a way to put up our own.
We don’t have car payments. We don’t have a credit card bill. We do have mortgage payments. Compared to most, we are in good shape.
I suspect that most days will be like today. I worked on Forks this morning – it’s coming along. Time and distance were a good thing – it is now evident to me that I put a lot of time and effort into this book. I nearly abandoned it because I previously thought that it wasn’t any good. It now has thematic unity, good characterization, and narrative continuity. My revisionary changes have also strengthened it stylistically.
I also got all the horses out. I did agility with the mares, which they seemed to enjoy. And Pete and I went down-road, I rode Hrimmi and he walked Tinni. Hrimmi moved out several times and tolted nicely.
The horse pen is near pristine – our diligence, in picking up the manure three times a day has paid off. The horses’ coats are clean, and I’ve seen no signs of thrush in their hooves or scratches on Hrimmi’s legs. And there is absolutely no sign of rain rot – scabby areas on backs where dirt and water pool.
I don’t think I’m going in tomorrow to the recycling center. Best perhaps that I lay low and do my part for dog and my country.
Next: 83. 3/24/20: You and the Bright Lights Book Project