Night Thoughts

I didn't sleep well last night, mostly I think because I'd slept too much over the weekend and by 4 a.m. my body said, "Okay, enough!" Even so I did give two successful dinners Friday and Sunday--one a casual and simple supper for a couple who are good friends, the other a more diverse group to welcome a friend whose employment needs exiled her temporarily to Anchorage. She was back for a visit, and we let talk of literary Texas swirl around her. To her great pleasure, I fixed a Tex-Mex meal--chicken/tomatillo enchiladas, salsa and chips, fruit, and ice cream. It was a good visit, with great and interesting conversation, and I was very glad to see her.
I think I slept too much over the weekend because I felt crummy. The cat bite is healing, though ugly, but I am still on antibiotics. They have made me tired, stolen my appetite, increased my anxiety level to the zenith (with me, that doesn't always take much), and destroyed my already fragile sense of physical balance. Thank goodness tomorrow is the last day on them.
But when I wokeI didn't have those bleak, four-in-the-morning thoughts that almost propel you out of bed. I was writing my novel, and, my goodness, the things I figured out that will happen in the life of Kelly, my central character. I'd spent some time over the weekend rereading the first chapters and decided they weren't nearly as bad as I imagined. So in my mind I forged ahead with complications. The big trouble is I already know all the solutions--who committed the murder, who is trying to scare Kelly away from trying to figure it out. But if I start dragging in solutions in Chapter 8, I won't have much of a novel. Have to keep piling on complications until, in true Shakespearean terms, things can get no worse--and I get at least 60,000 words (this is not going to be an 800-age doorstop). Then I start bringing in the answers. But I am once again excited.
The dark thoughts did come after I must have drifted off again about 6:30. I was sure I would be forever clumsy, unable to walk across open spaces in a confident and even manner. Of course when I got up and got going, all was well. But I do wish the newspaper carrier would stop throwing the paper on the grass, where there are lots of roots to stumble over in the dark.
As I write this, the cat that bit me is sitting right next to me, watchng me type, occasionally trying to rub noses with me, sometimes rubbing his head on my shoulder--the most loving, affectionate thing you've ever seen!