It’s October, which today means I’m going to go visit my designated horror movie friend and watch a bunch of spooky things, and eat popcorn. That also means I don’t have much to say to you here, because I’m excited to get on the road.
(For a reminder of why you need a Horror Movie Friend, please see my New York Times piece about it from earlier this year!)
(Are you looking for more reading to chill your spine and go bump in the night? Here is an old scary story of mine called “The Basement,” published a few years ago on The Rumpus.)
The scariest thing that has happened in our house lately is that Paul somehow got giardia and didn’t want to eat his medicine. He did eat it, once I mixed it in with lots of ground beef and rice, but boy he didn’t want to. For those who aren’t quite sure: Paul is our dog. If Dave (my husband) had giardia, I would frankly expect him to eat his medicine without my intervention.
Our bathroom renovation has also officially begun, so there is no longer a sink or proper walls in there right now. It’s odd and cell-like, and less messy than I worried it would feel. We have to shower in the studio, but that’s not so bad. I thought I would mourn the old look of the room more, but actually I’m fascinated by this peek behind the walls, and now that the old stuff is gone, it is…if not forgotten, then certainly set aside, as more of my energy is directed at what will be new there in the next two weeks.
(Fingers crossed it doesn’t take longer than that.)
My garden, ravaged as it was, is slowly bouncing back. It won’t be the same, but we’ll see what we get. The radishes are annoyingly leggy. A few ranunculus sprouts have emerged, and I am hoping, hoping for more. The weather is moving towards actual perfection (50s at night, 70s in the day) and should reach that point next week. We have pumpkins. Paul ate his medicine. Things are happening, as things do and must.