How we grew each other's hearts and schemes of home

[sovay]

I got up early this morning for a COVID-19 test so that I can make my doctor's appointment on Friday. I would prefer not to have to see a doctor at all, but once again it turns out that being kept from regular access to medical care is bad for me. I am still not exactly sleeping and it means I'm not doing much of anything else except working, although I did eat some very nice Taiwanese food this afternoon and discover to my surprise that a pair of jeans I bought off the internet actually more or less fit. I have moved on to watching the 2005 BBC Bleak House, which I remember my father highly recommending to me at a point in time when I just couldn't picture anyone but Denholm Elliott as John Jarndyce. I am in fact enjoying it. I may also be maxing out my capacity to watch TV. I'm treating it as an experiment. While visiting my mother for purposes of honeycake-baking earlier this week, I ran into the neighbor with whom I had discussed the radio telescope I built in high school and Fred Hoyle's The Black Cloud (1957); this time he wanted to know if I had read Edwin Abbott Abbott's Flatland (1884) and then he asked what sort of science I did nowadays. I had to explain that I am not professionally a scientist any more than I am professionally a classicist or professionally a musician or any of the other things I seem to look like to people until they get close enough, although I did at least remember to tell him that I am professionally a writer. I know part of it is the beginning of the academic year, which I am starting to feel I will have to be actually dead not to feel like a ghost-shiver from the wrong universe over. (I hope that one is less plague-ridden and/or on fire. Somebody should get to be.) I know the sleeplessness never helps and I have been rummaging around in parts of my head that were likely to produce this reaction. I think I'd feel a lot better if I could write a poem about it. But for that I would have to be healthier and sleep more, which is where we came in.

Comments

[pameladean]

I think the line between professionally being something and doing it in whatever other fashion is even the opposite of that has been dug very deep for the wrong reason.

May the visit to the doctor be productive only of good.

P.

[sovay]

I think the line between professionally being something and doing it in whatever other fashion is even the opposite of that has been dug very deep for the wrong reason.

*hugs*

May the visit to the doctor be productive only of good.

Thank you! I like that way of phrasing it.