Too much fucking stress in my world, that's all there is to it.

Personal, family-type stuff, has my stress load through the roof.

The new novel is now going at a snail's pace but I'm trying to just be patient with everything. (ha ha)

A short story invite came in from left field and I really, really want to contribute to the anthology. (I know, I know; I said absolutely no more short stories because I had a 500-page novel to write this summer, and yet... and the deadline is Labor Day.)

AND... yes, in the middle of having no time whatsoever for anything, I've started dating somebody. Tonight will be 5 dates in a week and a half. That is, like, dating somebody. Not to mention, I'm putting on weight.

Think: huge plate of nachos and a beer at 9 PM. Or, red wine and snacks at 10 PM. Or, red wine and pizza at 11 PM. Or, wine, then dinner, then more wine...

Now think: which weight loss plan is it that recommends eating like that if you don't want to put on 5 pounds in a  week and a half????  Hmmm.

I'm drawing a blank...

The really heartbreaking news is that a really lovely black cat has been hanging around my house for the last week or so. He had become friends with my male cat, Buster. They would sort of play with each other through the family room window. (My cats are strictly indoor cats.)  The black cat even spent about an hour sleeping outside my bedroom window, under the roof overhang, during a rain storm. Just a lovely black cat who seemed to like hanging around here.

Sunday evening he was hit by a car and killed right in front of my house. I was so heartbroken. Thank god, he was in one piece. I carried him over to the little park next door to my house and laid him in the grass. He was still warm. He looked indescribably peaceful there.

Poor little Buster, though, kept his vigil at the family room window, waiting for his little friend to come play with him and, of course, his little friend never showed.