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I was painting some stuff last night. Craft paint, black. And I got some on me. It will wash off, but for now it's kind of like a badge of honor in a really messy way.

The dead neighbor's security light keeps going on. I think the wind is making his patio umbrella move enough that it's triggering the motion sensor. It's distracting, because I keep looking for someone to be out there.

These pockets of early-morning time when I wake up are kind of like "free" time, like they don't count, and I get to do what I want. Not really; I know that it's subtracting from my overall sleep time, but it doesn't seem like that, you know? It's like little moments of isolation when the world is asleep and nothing exists beyond my bedroom window. My imagination can fly and soar and bring me to worlds heretofore unimagined.

Or I can surf porn.

I should be writing. I know that I'm not because my mind is otherwise occupied with matters of a more mundane nature-- work, the house, paying bills-- and I know that to get to the place where I can write again, I need to be relaxed enough to be able to get there. It's been a while.

I suppose what I really need is to allow myself to feel relaxed, to give myself permission to play a little bit. That's not gonna happen for a while yet since I'm so absorbed in house stuff, but that truly is getting done. There has been remarkable progress as of late, and I will actually have some form of enclosure sooner rather than later. Actually having a roof will be a huge milestone, even though it's far from complete; it will be rather concretely defining the space that will be the front porch, and make it actually something useful rather than a blighted reminder of my failures.

It started off as fixing a leaky roof.

Scratch that: it started off as a bad design, back in the 1920's when the house was being built. It was designed to trap the rainwater and force it to go elsewhere and it probably worked well for fifty years, but when it stopped working it failed in miserable ways. The rain was trapped and ran down inside the walls, and it rotted everything including the very concrete of the foundation.

I suppose at the time, they didn't know as much about how damaging trapped water can be. And the materials of today are much more sophisticated than they were back then, so there is a much better chance of making something that will last for a century. And I suppose in a way I'm trying to do that, even though I know I'll be long gone.

It's weird to think of this as a legacy.

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
sageincave
Oct. 8th, 2006 01:58 pm (UTC)
Stuff like this is why I read your journal.
magicmarmot
Oct. 8th, 2006 02:52 pm (UTC)
Knowing that I have insomnia?
sageincave
Oct. 8th, 2006 06:27 pm (UTC)
Knowing that you have insomnia, and then you take time to jot weird thoughts down in your LJ.
being_isis
Oct. 8th, 2006 06:55 pm (UTC)
you will like this I feel.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

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