hendrikboom

With all the things I have to do, and have had trouble getting around to, I think I need to devote the kind of fanatic effort Nanowrimo needs to my to-do list -- which is actually four filing boxed of papers that have to be dealt with one way or another. Most of them are financial, some over a year old. All mixed up.

Dealing with an inch of files would have to be equivalent to 1000 words of writing if I am going to get through it in a month. And "dealing" doesn't mean just filing them properly. It means dealing with the issues they represent, paying bills, collecting together receipts and sending them off to insurance companies, officially signing documents before notaries, things like that. It all seems so infeasible. Just like writing 50000 words seems infeasible. But I think this one may really be too hard. Unless it turns out that a lot of the stuff really takes no action at all except to toss it into the recycling bin or something. Well, I guess I'll find out.

But I won't be able to use nanowrimo's word-count to post my progress -- not if it's being used for other purposes like adding up the Montreal word count or such, since it would be too easy to misunderstand the number as referring to actual words written.

This morning before I awoke I dreamt that my grandfather and grandmother were sitting on a couch in my basement, reading old letters they had written to each other long ago which I found in my fathers papers, and finding them fascinating, reminding them of the passions they had shared over a century ago.

But they're really all gone now, all gone under the hill, long long ago they flowed down the brown river under the bridge to the sea.