I need to live to be a hundred

I've got 12 books and 3 plays I want to write, as of now, and at the rate I'm going, I'll need to be around that long to get them done. Hopefully I'll still be continent at that age, but you never know how you'll turn out, do you? All I really know is I'm tired to the bone and can't wait for the plane to start boarding.

I got extended by a day in NYC to go see a collection of artwork and photos being shipped to London along with the shipment I packed...if they can work it out. I reworked 58 boxes into 86 and it was rough. As I dug into each box, I found books that had been just shoved in, wrapped in nothing, and bundles of 2-3 books wrapped with no protection, all in different sizes and shapes...and it hurt. This packing job was done by someone who did not care about books at all. Nor did the person whose collection this came from do anything to keep them in shape. So many had front and back boards torn off and/or missing, pages folded, spines cracked and flaking, rust on some of the leather volumes (that's when the leather is so dried out, it turns to dust) and on and on. I've never let my books get to that point. I don't dust them every day...hell, even every month...but I do wipe them down and keep them in decent shape, even though the majority are for research. It actually hurt to see them done this way.

But they're better packed, now. In boxes of a decent weight -- 35-40 pounds instead of 55-60...in the same size box -- and wrapped in bubble and packed tight. It's funny, the woman I was dealing with thought I was CONDENSING the books into tighter packages and was surprised when I mentioned how much less the boxes now weigh. Jesus, these people are clueless.

So here I am...watching books fall into disrepair as I decide to write more. And I'm writing them in the face of learning my books so far are a bit depressing. I need to do more farce. Or maybe see if I can bring some humor into POS before I have it set in stone. I don't know. right now, my mind drifts and I think of nothing if I can help it.

Hell...I can think of nothing even when I don't mean to.