HAPPY 112th BIRTHDAY JORGE LUIS BORGES!
Ben and I made the mistake of drinking three cups each of a strong Arabian tea at a neighbor's house. It was in tumblers, practically; we didn't think it could be so caffeinated. Now I'm up and getting ready to paint. Whatever time this blog post will say it is, make no mistake: it is 1:48 am, August 24. Oh, well. I, like so many writers before me, most of whom suffered from psychosis, work best at night anyway. Maybe one day I'll give birth to the great American Psychotic novel. Maybe one day I'll give birth to nocturnal animals who won't mind that I stay awake until 2 so that I can't get up to feed them during the daylight hours.
Ben said he would get up to read, but he hasn't. I suspect a ploy to get me out of the bed so he could sleep without me muttering to myself.
Yesterday, I re-sent an application to the American Printing House for the Blind for the Audio Book Editor position. I don't know that they'll see my experience fleshed out in my resume, so I want them just to talk to me. I'll call again Thursday. Not that I'm desperate for employment or anything...
I called another small publisher, Memoria Press, but they aren't hiring writers right now. Tomorrow, I'll go to the Communications Office on campus and see if they're hiring staff writers. That would be a really ideal job, since I wouldn't have to use the car.
My husband just got up. One of the best thngs about being married is having someone else up at the crazy hours I am. I don't know that we're always co-conspirators, but we're at least poor planners in league. No no no more Arabian tea at 9:30!
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