I am taking the weekend off for my son's birthday.
Here you go. I don't think that I will finish it today. It is turning out to be a longer story than I thought.
How He Died (continued)
A woman walked over to me and asked me to come with her. She lead me to a quiet part of the hospital and put me in a hospital room by myself. She said they would come and get me when it would be okay. So I sat and I waited...and waited...and waited. All I could do was sit. I don't remember even thinking. At some point, I walked to the door and stood there. I was like the hallway, empty. Eventually, someone walked by. I asked the person, maybe a woman, about Darrell. She said that someone would get back with me. So I waited some more. It's all a big blank now. I could have been very active during this time; I just don't know. I don't think I waited as long this time. At some point someone did come get me.
Darrell had been put on a ventilator. He wasn't breathing on his own. He needed more care than they could give him. His kidneys had shut down and he needed dialysis. They were arranging to send him to a hospital that was actually closer to our house. I was wearing a thin blouse and a sweater, and, at some point, the back of my blouse had ripped, like, all the way up. I needed to go change. they said I should have time to go by the house and get to the other hospital.
I went home. It was dark and quiet.
I'll write more later.
So, did I tell you that my computer updated and now my mousepad works? Woohoo! And today was day seven in a seven-day work week. I am so going to sleep tomorrow. I've already had two naps since I got home before five. I think my dogs have had three. I found the "Midsomer Murders" channel on my Roku, and it is playing in the background while I write. I don't really want to write tonight. I could give a lot of reasons why, but I just don't want to. I want to go back to bed. I guess that's why I am checking in tonight. I wanted to tell you I'm not going to write tonight. I hope you are having a good November. I also hope that I can work through this malaise tomorrow and at least finish "How He Died."
Have a good night.
word count: 152
I was supposed to have today off, but my boss asked me to come in, so I did. Now I have Thursday off. Now I am on Day Six of a seven-day work week. That combined with the emotional toll the election always has on me and the emotional toll yesterday's writing had on me, well, I am exhausted. It's a choice of going to bed and listening to "Mr. Keene: Tracer of Lost Persons" or writing. I think going to bed will win. I suspect that because I have already changed for bed and am in bed with the fan on and the lights off. Maybe I'm just clairvoyant. Thank you, Blogger for spelling "clairvoyant" for me, twice.
I was watching "Red Dwarf" tonight and Holly described a time and dimension thing as "wibbly." That makes me think that the Tenth Doctor watched "Red Dwarf." No reason for telling you that, it's just an idea I had. And all words count, right? Maybe I can write a fan fic where The Doctor is watching TV? How would that go?
The Doctor was bored. Rose was gone and he was lonely. He decided to visit the 1990's. After all, the food's not bad and he could catch up on some telly. [Is it weird for an American to use British slang? It didn't feel too weird, but did I even use it right?] He surfed the channels and found a program called "Red Dwarf." They were talking about dimension jumping being wibbly. Dimension jumping wasn't wibbly. Time was wibbly. It was wibbly-wobbly and kind of timey-wimey. Timey-wimey? Where did he get this stuff? He was glad no one was around to hear that one. He made a mental note to take timey-wimey out of his vocabulary.
Okay. So, I wrote a thing. I should change the font so you can tell the difference. And, man, is predictive text freaky or what? Or am I just that predictable? Ugh, I am a predictable writer.
Yay, all the words.
word count 344
So, I still haven't written a short story. This is more a journaling exercise. I am writing before I have to go to work. I don't want to go. I am closing the store tonight and I don't like doing that.
Google says that today is Marie Curie's birthday. Happy birthday Marie!
Okay. so here is the beginning of a story I don't want to tell, but needs to come out. I'll try to finish it tonight after work, but it may be tomorrow.
How He Died
My husband was very sick. I asked him to go to the doctor and he said that he had a whole bunch of appointments in a little over a week and if he still felt bad, he would ask them about it. He complained of his back hurting. he lost his appetite, and he was sleeping a lot. On Monday, I told him that if he still felt bad on Tuesday, then we were going to the hospital. Tuesday came and went and he still felt bad. And I didn't take him. Why didn't I take him? The reasons seem so stupid now. Then it was Thursday. I had an appointment with my therapist and I asked him to go with me. He felt so bad, but he went anyway. My therapist was right down the street from the hospital. I discussed with her what was the best way to get him to go and she said to just take him, When we were done, that's what I did.
He was pissed. I was afraid that he had dehydrated himself, which was extra concerning because he had Congestive Heart Failure and wasn't able to just take fluids. It had to be done very slowly. We waited in the lobby for the triage nurse to call us back. Although he was mad, he never really fought going that much. Why didn't I take him on Tuesday? When the triage nurse called his name, I went with him. The triage nurse was also a man. I explained how I thought he might be dehydrated while the nurse took his blood pressure. Except, his blood pressure was so low, that it wouldn't register on the machine. They hurried him to a room and some things happened and I don't remember what they were. What I do remember next was that they placed him under this blow up blanket that was heated and he hated it. He kept taking it off , complaining that he was hot. At some point a doctor came in and yelled at me because the blanket was off. She said he had to keep it on. Then, we were alone again. I don't remember talking to him. I think I must have said something about him needing to keep the blanket on and him not liking it. but I don't remember. The he said "Heidi, help me! Help me!" and he passed out.
He never really said my name that much. The whole time I knew him, he was making up nicknames for me. He liked to do that, but I always wanted him to say my name more often. I liked the way it sounded coming from his mouth. But not that night. I was by the side of his bed where he had rolled over and he was quiet. I said "Darrell, Darrell?" and then I laughed. I fucking laughed. I do that sometimes when I am nervous, scared, or embarrassed. Why hadn't I taken him to the hospital on Tuesday? Then, the room filed up with people. I walked over and sat down, hoping they wouldn't notice me. I knew that if they noticed me, then I would have to leave.
word count: 627
So, I started a story during my break but, I did not write during my lunch because I ate instead. In my defense, I was hungry. I had a a Publix chicken tender salad made like a Foosackly's salad. It was delicious! Google tells me that today was National Sandwich Day. I could have added a sandwich to my salad. Anyway, now I am home and I have taken a Melatonin because I have to be back at work tomorrow at 8 am. I don't think that I am going to be awake much longer. I also remembered a story that I wanted to write a while back about a proposal. Now I have two stories that I can write. That is what we call progress. Also, did I tell y'all that "Red Dwarf" comes on Crackle? I think I am falling asleep to a Britcom tonight.
My battery is dying. See you tomorrow.
word count: 158
So, I still have no idea what to write about. I did find some prompts and some of them have set a spark, I just don't know where I want to go with it. The site where I found some prompts that I like is 72 Clever Creative Writing Prompts (+ 6 Brainy Bonus Tips) (smartblogger.com). There is one where you have committed a crime, but you don't remember doing it. I think I would like to write about this and have the crime be some sort of misdemeanor, like jaywalking. There are some possibilities there. I may try to write something tomorrow while I am on lunch and then transcribe it here. I just have to find my traveler's notebook where I write stuff. That's how not writey I've been over the past two years. I stopped carrying my writing journal.
What I probably should do is just start writing the story now, but it is getting late. Ten o'clock is now late for me, I used to start writing at this time of night. Does that mean that I am getting old? Nah, I am just more interested in watching planning videos. Right now, I am watching "Rana Plans" on YouTube while I am trying to write here. Not the best writing discipline going on. I am having fun just randomly write whatever comes into my head. And then count that as writing for NaNo feels a little naughty.
I have been reading Fer-De-Lance by Rex Stout. It is the first of the Nero Wolfe books. With all of the mysteries that I like to read and listen to, you would think that I would try to write a mystery, but it intimidates me. Maybe that is a sign that I should try. Maybe something on the level of Encyclopedia Brown. Although I have a hard time figuring out those mysteries as well. I am afraid that my mystery would be too obvious. An obvious mystery is not the worst thing ever though, so maybe I'll try a page long mystery while I am doing NaNo. I could Columbo it and have you see the crime happen, so you know who the bad guy is. By the way, I have no idea who has done it in the Nero Wolfe story. It could be anyone.
So, let me go and try to find my writing journal so that I can actually try to write a story and y'all can read something other than my random thoughts.
Things have happened. If you have read any of my latest posts, then you know my sweet husband died. So then, I moved to the beach and got a job and started working a lot. A whole lot. Also, my mousepad is broken on my computer, and it is a pain to use a regular mouse (it's sitting on my leg at the moment.)
Anyway, I missed the last two(?) NaPoWriMos and I haven't done a NaNo since forever, so I figured I would try to do it here. I thought I would be a NaNo rebel and do a series of short stories. Bwahahahahaha! The problem is that I have absolutely no ideas whatsoever. I played around with one idea where my bra was trying to eat my breasts, but then, I took my bra off and my inspiration went with it. Also, if you've ever read this thing, you know I like a good twist ending. Too much M. Night Shamalan and "The Whistler" old time radio I guess. If this is your first time reading this, then spoilers.
I went to work today and I closed and then I went to Waffle House because I wanted breakfast for supper and it was so stinking good that now I am sleepy and the muse is not with me. I am going to spend the rest of this week working on finding prompts and trying to come up with something and hopefully, that will trigger something in me. Also I am not going to eat so dang much right before I try to write. All I want to do is watch an episode of "Mr. and Mrs. North" and go to sleep listening to Philo Vance mysteries.
Of course, I am totally count this small section in my word count for the day. Woohoo!
Thanks for checking up on me! Talk to y'all tomorrow. Sweet dreams.