• Location: Leeds, Alabama
• Mood: confused
• Music: The Lumineers, "The Gun Song"

"...but every word seemed to date her."

I'll try to make a genuine entry this morning, even though I only slept about five fitful hours, the first bad night's sleep I've had since we got here. Currently, it's sunny and 65˚F, and the high should be 83˚F. Back home, it's 58˚F with rain and fog, and the high will be more like 61˚F.

The trip isn't going well. This will be the fifth full day here (eight days since we left home) We've hardly left my mom's house, it seems. And I haven't finished "In the Flat Field." I woke in utter panic this morning, because of all the writing that I didn't get done this month, primarily because of cat drama and mail drama and car drama and trying to get ready for this trip and then actually, finally, taking this trip. I've realized that I really had no clear idea what I hoped to accomplish, coming down here. Except, I suppose, to be here, but that hardly seems sufficient. I have realized that the goal was not to merely visit, but, knowing that, well, knowing that is useless. Yesterday was one of my worst days in recent memory.

Okay, never mind. This attempt at an entry is only setting myself up for another wasted day.

I've kind of been on a Torchy Blane binge.

Later,
Aunt Beast



10:35 p.m.