from deep despair and perished things

[Subject line's from A Promise through the Ages Rings]



I have been bloody-minded today, you could say: there are old dark brown spots on a comforter defying soap and enzyme, and the Kentucky rosebush scratched and stabbed at me as I weeded around it. But at least I wasn't the babysitter across the street yelling "Tomato! It's a good sweater! Don't eat it!" at her black dog.



I'm feeling good about spreading the last of a pine straw bale around the bush, along with the remains of the Christmas fir wreath. I also untrunked another comforter and blanket, so they will be aired out by the time my houseguest arrives.

Today's messages included a poetry rejection, so I'm still batting .000 for the year. I'm okay about it. There's much to do, and I'll write more compelling work someday. (And my track record's solid enough for that to be a declaration of fact rather than wishfulness.)

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/180841.html.