I must be desperate. The house is so full of paper that I have started to rip up original manuscripts of my novels. After all, I have published copies. Why would I need the draft notes?
It seems that the virus has at last made me start to clear out stuff I have held on to for years. This must be a good use of my time but it is very depressing. It’s like destroying history.
I can’t feel creative since I wrote the Daffs poem. The only thing I have written this week is a menu chart for five days, just to make certain I am using what is in the freezer while trying to get a balance. This craving for sweet stuff cannot be a good thing. I’m only walking to the end of the road but I did do some gardening yesterday so that was exercise.
Now, what do I do with two sacks of ripped up paper?