Detritus.

I’ve been thinking it was already September for the past week.

It’s that awkward time of year when it’s a high in the low 80s but a low in the high 50s, so should I wear a hoodie and be hot some of the time or go without and be cold some of the time?

My parents reference a lot of things from the 1940s and 1950s because of their parents, so I make the same references. It makes me feel simultaneously old and cultured. I grew up recognizing the impressions (at least the majority of them) on Looney Tunes. That’s the true litmus test for culturedness.

There are exactly three weeks between the two trips my husband and I are taking soon. That’s just under the amount of time I’ll have to check out a book on Libby and later return it. When I check out a book for the first trip, it’ll be due the day we leave for our second trip. I’m going to need two books. This upsets me more than it should.

I’m currently in the middle portion of my novel. The part I’ve seen writing advice YouTubers describe as “sagging.” It feels like a metaphor for life. It’s where all of the important stuff happens! But it’s also slow to write and hard to stay motivated.

Every time I hit the next big palindrome word goal, I feel like I could fly.