Despite my habitual August certainty that my life is unsustainable and a failure, I've written two ok things this month (nothing in the pipeline, this was a one-off, I'm back to copywriting about chain hotels and whispering vicious demotivational slogans to myself).
Today, a piece on television and teenagers. Since writing it (ages ago), we seem to have run out of good consensus telly: I've been dragged unwillingly through the latter half of Dexter (Quinn gets more and more brown and thin to the point where he becomes uncannily like the dessicated corpse of Ramses II in a striped shirt, Batista says "dio mio" a lot, Deb loses the plot to a point where there is NOWHERE left to go, emotional range wise, Charlotte Rampling is terrible) and failed to enthuse anyone about Fargo season 3. I just miss the happy days of Parks and Rec and 30 Rock. I want a good comedy, is that really too much to ask? The best laugh we've had in front of the telly as a family for months was watching David Guetta's set at Tomorrowland.
Last week a piece on the wonderful, extraordinary Mohamed El Bachiri whose wife was killed in the Brussels bombings. There was a lot in it, and in our conversation, about the Greeks, and especially the Odyssey, how important it is; how he's on his own quest, lost at sea with his motherless boys. There's more about it in his book, which is very special. I got an email from Prog Rock about it yesterday:
"Edwin Muir wrote a poem called The Return of Odysseus, where Penelope thinks "this is duty....to keep a vacant gate, where order and right and hope and peace can enter". M E B's jihad, struggle to open and hold open a gate."
He always knows the right things, the things that shift and open your mind and your heart. I'm very lucky to have him in my life, for almost infinite reasons but especially that one.
This morning I demonstrated to my spouse my new technique to cope with Ouipette's post-illness tendency to do thirty tiny rabbit pellet shits a day by managing to use a single dog shit bag for two such pellets. He was utterly repelled, as well he might be even though it doesn't involve touching any shit, honest.
E: It's easy! And economical! Do you know how much all this is costing me? I've already shelled out for over €300 in vet's bills this month and O still needs to go back on Monday for his pre-England check. When I made the appointment this morning they welcomed me like the actual queen of England, that's how much money I've spent there recently.
Spouse (moving away from me with look of utter revulsion): Yeah I know we're broke, but that's a step too far for me.
Pretty sure that's the end of the physical aspect of our relationship.