Yesterday I took a nap.
OK that’s a lie. Yesterday I took two naps. One shortly after breakfast and one in the afternoon. Altogether I probably napped close to an hour, maybe more. I wasn’t timing myself or limiting the nap time by setting an alarm. I just arranged the pillows on the sofa, covered myself with the throw, let out an audible sigh, and closed my eyes. Each time when I woke up, I felt better.
In some of my books about writing I quote well-known writers on why they write. For example, in The Lively Muse Daily Appointment Calendar for Writers, I quote Carlos Fuentes:
“One wants to tell a story like Scheherazade, in order not to die. It’s one of the oldest urges of mankind It’s a way of stalling death.”
Somebody’s trying to tell me something. These are a couple of the cards I received for my recent birthday.
And this is the bag that contained a few birthday gifts.
For several months now (has it been years?), I’ve been talking about getting another cat. I’ve been feline free since I lost my darling Rumi in 2012. I mean what kind of writer am I that I don’t have a cat?