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The Day Before Writing
Thursday, April 13th, 2006 05:02 pmAt 8 a.m. the Propane Man Cometh, one hour ahead of his scheduled time. Happily, we were up and well-embarked on breakfast, due to the necessity of taking Argent to the shop for pre-trip prep. I'd drawn shop-duty this time, and went prepared with the current book -- Will in the World -- and a yellow pad and pen with which to make notes for the chapter currently under construction.
After turning Argent over to the nice young men at the counter, I retired to the(untenanted)waiting area. The television was off, which suited me fine; I took up station at a chair in the corner and unlimbered my pad and pen. About five minutes later, a man came in, made for the television, glanced over at me and checked. "School work?" he asked. I agreed that I had some writing to get done. He nodded and took a seat in front of the window into the service bays, leaving the television off.
A little while longer, when I was done with outlining and had retired to my book, a woman about my age came in, headed for the television, glanced over at me, muttered grumpily, "Reading a book," and went over to take the seat by the outside window, where she commenced in to staring at the rain. Leaving the television off.
Despite that I was the agent of the television not getting turned on, I'm not sure this counts as being A Force for Good, since neither one of my companions-in-waiting bothered to pick up a magazine or do anything else to replace tube-gazing. Maybe I should have offered to read aloud to them.
Back home, I made black bean and rice soup for lunch. It was wonderful, and rather more than I had intended to make, so I get to have it again in the next couple days.
After lunch, it was Mozart's turn at the vet's. While we were waiting, a man in his late twenties -- my guess -- wearing a beat-up gimme hat, grease-stained t-shirt, sporting extravagant tattoos on both arms, and a ring tattooed around his left ring finger -- came into the waiting room carrying a quilt. He gave this to Katie, behind the counter, who murmured, "We'll bring her right out to you," and disappeared, along with her back-up. I murmured to Mozart, who was trying to be Very Small inside the cat carrier; aware that the man was still on his feet, fidgeting from side to side, touching the brim of his cap...and eventually aware that he was crying.
"It's hard," I offered, not really sure if saying something was a good idea; "when they leave."
He nodded, and used the back of his hand to rub his eyes. "With me for eleven years," he said, and it seemed like he tried to smile. "Just like a goddamn' kid, y'know?"
"Yeah. I know."
It took three of the kennel staff to carry his dog out, on a stretcher, wrapped in the quilt that looked like it had come right off his bed. They loaded her into the back of his pickup, while he shook a cigarette out of a hard pack and took three tries to get it lighted. Then he put the gate up and drove away.
Light a candle, if you have a chance, for the nameless man who's missing his nameless dog...
Home again, and Mozart hiding under the bed, I did dishes and various SRM chores, and now it's time to get down to cases. For those who are curious as to what a chapter outline might look like -- and bearing in mind that this one is much more detailed than usual -- I append today's, below:
Chapter 21
1. Bind and paint
2. 8 a.m. Nancy comes in, reports tourists
3. 9:30 break for coffee at Tony Lee's -- tourists
a. Anna's looking good
b. Kate returns necklace
1b. Anna -- didn't work
2b. Kate -- yeah it did
4. Painting and brass work
a. tourists poking their heads in
b. Marilyn -- open early?
1b. Kate -- already opening early -- how much earlier NOW?
2b. Marilyn -- Monday nite
3b. Kate -- throws fit
4b. Nancy -- we can do it. Brass almost done, refurb almost done.
All we need are lights and mirrors. Tourists won't know
diff.
5b. Marilyn -- just do your best, OK?
5. Kate -- ohmighod -- late!
a. Pier crammed with tourists
After turning Argent over to the nice young men at the counter, I retired to the(untenanted)waiting area. The television was off, which suited me fine; I took up station at a chair in the corner and unlimbered my pad and pen. About five minutes later, a man came in, made for the television, glanced over at me and checked. "School work?" he asked. I agreed that I had some writing to get done. He nodded and took a seat in front of the window into the service bays, leaving the television off.
A little while longer, when I was done with outlining and had retired to my book, a woman about my age came in, headed for the television, glanced over at me, muttered grumpily, "Reading a book," and went over to take the seat by the outside window, where she commenced in to staring at the rain. Leaving the television off.
Despite that I was the agent of the television not getting turned on, I'm not sure this counts as being A Force for Good, since neither one of my companions-in-waiting bothered to pick up a magazine or do anything else to replace tube-gazing. Maybe I should have offered to read aloud to them.
Back home, I made black bean and rice soup for lunch. It was wonderful, and rather more than I had intended to make, so I get to have it again in the next couple days.
After lunch, it was Mozart's turn at the vet's. While we were waiting, a man in his late twenties -- my guess -- wearing a beat-up gimme hat, grease-stained t-shirt, sporting extravagant tattoos on both arms, and a ring tattooed around his left ring finger -- came into the waiting room carrying a quilt. He gave this to Katie, behind the counter, who murmured, "We'll bring her right out to you," and disappeared, along with her back-up. I murmured to Mozart, who was trying to be Very Small inside the cat carrier; aware that the man was still on his feet, fidgeting from side to side, touching the brim of his cap...and eventually aware that he was crying.
"It's hard," I offered, not really sure if saying something was a good idea; "when they leave."
He nodded, and used the back of his hand to rub his eyes. "With me for eleven years," he said, and it seemed like he tried to smile. "Just like a goddamn' kid, y'know?"
"Yeah. I know."
It took three of the kennel staff to carry his dog out, on a stretcher, wrapped in the quilt that looked like it had come right off his bed. They loaded her into the back of his pickup, while he shook a cigarette out of a hard pack and took three tries to get it lighted. Then he put the gate up and drove away.
Light a candle, if you have a chance, for the nameless man who's missing his nameless dog...
Home again, and Mozart hiding under the bed, I did dishes and various SRM chores, and now it's time to get down to cases. For those who are curious as to what a chapter outline might look like -- and bearing in mind that this one is much more detailed than usual -- I append today's, below:
Chapter 21
1. Bind and paint
2. 8 a.m. Nancy comes in, reports tourists
3. 9:30 break for coffee at Tony Lee's -- tourists
a. Anna's looking good
b. Kate returns necklace
1b. Anna -- didn't work
2b. Kate -- yeah it did
4. Painting and brass work
a. tourists poking their heads in
b. Marilyn -- open early?
1b. Kate -- already opening early -- how much earlier NOW?
2b. Marilyn -- Monday nite
3b. Kate -- throws fit
4b. Nancy -- we can do it. Brass almost done, refurb almost done.
All we need are lights and mirrors. Tourists won't know
diff.
5b. Marilyn -- just do your best, OK?
5. Kate -- ohmighod -- late!
a. Pier crammed with tourists
