I am too introspective lately. It's exhausting to be constantly looking inside with one eye, to be asking, What happened? The other eye is on the children, who are throwing things out the window or painting each other. They're kids. They are pretty happy. "Oh look, there goes something else, out the window!" "Neat. My turn!"
The kids want a dog. I say, "You can't have a dog. What would happen if you threw a dog out the window?"
But I am thinking maybe that a dog is a good thing. I love dogs. All that LOVE they have, coupled with the fact that they bark at bad guys. The kids have named the dog-we-haven't-got Happy. How can I say no to a dog named Happy? I love the idea that I can go to a shelter and there will be Happy, wagging her tail and wanting to be with us, and we'll say, "Yes, there she is. Let's take Happy home."
I am thinking of home. I must be, it's a recurring theme here. Look back at my posts and there and there again, home. The music, the beach. So what does it mean? Is your home a person or a state of mind or a book or a pretend world you've created or a real, actual place? What if your home moves away from home and your house stays the same?
Oh, let's stop thinking. Some music, then.
Next week I'll be blogging about the new book, which is very very nearly at the very last bit of being finished. So there's some good news, after all. It's not all sighing and looking inwards around here, there are some tiny causes for celebration. This and that. Some endings, some beginnings.
And maybe, just maybe, there will be a future blog post about a dog named Happy.