Pasts That I Know

The days leading up to my birthday have been rather difficult and cantankerous.  My kids seem to be arguing more vociferously than usual.  There have been too many dumb shows streaming from Netflix, not enough deep, rewarding activities happening.  Things are planned then cancelled.   I'm not sure what that would be--maybe an entire film instead?  At this point, I'll take it.

So my birthday is tomorrow and it seems as if I'm getting older at an alarming rate.  This wouldn't be so bad, I think, if I didn't feel like the tight space I started the year with is still largely intact, and I'm not quite sure what to do with that.

So what am I doing?  I'm writing about a past--not mine--but creating a past for characters based on pasts that I know.  Above you see a house that lives on Douglas Street in Salt Lake City.  I'm pretty sure I lived in this house when I was a graduate student at the University of Utah in the very early '90s.   The story I wrote today is set in the house, in the basement.    Writing these stories every day have been the best thing I've been doing every day for this past week.

Tomorrow is my birthday.  Lara, there is still no cake.