Excelsior!

This is the first day in a long time that I have awoken with my ambition uppermost, my confidence level almost as high, and the determination to have fun for the rest of my life. Matter of fact, it may be the first day ever that all three of those conditions have coincided and congrued in my normally scattered awareness.

I know that I can make slipcovers, because I've made at least half a dozen in the past. The fact that they got shredded by cat claws notwithstanding.

I know that I can throw a yard sale, because I've done it before. I can always be careful not to fall and bruise my whole body again, the way I did last time I threw a yard sale.

I know that I can put together a volume of my poems, because I've done it before. I can pay somebody else to publish the next one under their imprint, instead of stapling together a "chap book" by myself.

I know that I can write a novel, because et cetera. Maybe nobody will ever publish it, or want to read it. Who cares? Their loss. Of course, that's not the way a writer is supposed to feel. You're supposed to want to get rich and famous for writing a book, or you're not really a writer. Well, I've gone for a good many years without being rich or famous, so I know that I can do that some more.

So, the Plan for October is to dummy up a volume of my "Collected Poems" and get it out of my hands and into the process. Also to get all the extraneous stuff out of my house, some sunny day, and see if anyone will stop and buy some of it, or take it for free.

The November Plan is to write another first-drafted novel. That'll give me two worth working on and submitting here and there.

The December Plan is to spruce up the living room for Christmas, by making slipcovers for the old ratty furniture.

And in my spare time, I can redecorate the dollhouse. Any questions?

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Looks like I forgot my nemeses, housework and paying bills. Oh well.