A DAY OF WRITING

The wind stirs again today, starting just after sunrise. But the sun shines gloriously. All that makes a great time for writing. I am finishing the writing of another short story today, and to do that, so far all my meals have been eaten in my apartment. I do not anticipate even going downstairs for dinner tonight in order to complete this story and then take a rest. I waste much time waiting for the food to appear downstairs and the typical conversation is a bigger waste of time. 

A wee book from my shelves waits for me to pick it up again and finish that reading of 258 pages. It's called The Man Who Loved Books Too Much by Allison Hoover Bartlett. This is a true crime story containing the thief, an amateur detective and a world of literary obsession. Next it goes to the husband of our director here, he who loves books too, but I doubt he steals them. I've never met him. 

War and Peace moseys along. It wouldn't surprise me if I read 100 shorter books while I swim or sink in this Tolstoy masterpiece. But I'm hoping to read it all in time. It may take a lot of days of eating my meals "at home." It's more costly this way, of course, for I pay for meals downstairs, eaten or not eaten. All for the writing.