Nibbled to death by ducks

I made an attempt at Martyrdom Renewed Monday night, and suffered Epiphany. I do that from time to time, suffer epiphanies. It’s like a rash. I’ll post about that at length, later.

Epiphany took up a bunch of energy, and then there was Michael to fetch from work at 11. On the way home he poked me with more questions for his psych paper, which produced another minor epiphany and got me to bed 1ish (again).

Yesterday morning I drove the truck to work. My brain was barely ticking over. I made a stab at writing a few words during break. I think they might have been English, for a suitably loose definition of English. It was with a bleary and unenthused eye that I regarded the approach of lunch time, and the attendent 800-1200 words that would be queued up to be written during that span.

So I should have been pleased when the truck backfired, disintegrated a portion of its carbeurator, and refused to move from the parking lot.

I mobilized Shannon, who had the day off and the car, and we drove around town gathering the springs that were missing and some hemostats with which to apply them. I reclined and dozed between stops; conscious effort was beyond me, so I was running on purely unconscious effort.

On our return, we discovered that the primary venturi housing, a part of the carb that never, ever moves, not even when one reworks the carb, was no longer stationary. A free-floating venturi housing pretty much signaled an end to maintenance for the day — so it wasn’t all bad — but also signaled a $400 expense to replace the carb.

I did not write last night. There was nothing left of me to try. I was amiable enough, and calm and happy, but the inside of my head was nothing but static. Shannon went to collect the boy and I slept. This morning I am moderately better, but no where close to right. I was going to try to write during lunch, but we’ve found someone who will rebuild the carb and return it tomorrow — if I get it to him today.

This is not pleasing me. I don’t like how many things I’m doing instead of writing. But keeping the house watertight, getting Michael home, and saving $400 for the truck all seem like fairly vital issues that should be addressed. I’ll just have to make it up.

Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry