I confess that we lost Bart, one of our pet degus, on Sunday, and I feel like it's my fault. She'd gotten injured on Saturday and I thought we should take her to the vet. My spouse wasn't sure, so we called, and the vet told us to wait and see. I wish I hadn't listened. Bart died on Sunday morning. I knew she needed medical attention. I should have just put her in the car and had her admitted anyway. She might still be alive. And even if she would have died anyway, at least her last hours would have been more comfortable. I feel like I failed Bart. She depended on me, and I screwed up big time. It's been a rough few days at this house.
I confess that it's really hard to get up and feed the degus in the morning; it reminds me so acutely that Bart isn't there anymore. It's also a little scary. I keep worrying that I'll go up to the cage and find another degu dead.
I confess that my laptop died on Thursday night and I have been really lazy about getting data I need for NaNoWriMo recovered off the hard drive. I don't know why I'm procrastinating, as NaNo starts in less than a week.
I confess that I'm actually a little scared for NaNoWriMo this year. Not because I'm not sure I can win - I know I can - but because this year I want to write a really good novel. I've invested so much time into research, into writing prompts, and I worry that if I can't produce a good novel that is revisable and publishable, it will have all gone to waste. I know that's not true. I know that even if the novel itself is a failure, I still will have learned a lot. I still will have gotten novel-writing practice that will serve me when I try to write my next novel. I might even get the nugget of a good short story or novella in there. This effort will not be wasted.
I confess that I haven't been sleeping well, that I'm drained and groggy and grouchy and sad. I think I should go make some tea.