Camp NaNoWriMo word count: 34,367 as of 7am on Saturday, 20 April 2019

EMD word count: 75,543 [untouched]

My meeting went well yesterday. I will miss our meetings after this month.

The scaffolding is down from the front of the house, and Gary has done most of the clean-up. There are still nails everywhere, and I think we both look forward to working on the front garden.

I could not sleep so I wrote and rewrote. I did not work on the novel, even turning thoughts away from it. BF needs butchery and I am inclined to butcher the old in favor of the newer words—not always wise.

I am restless and looking forward to the long walk we promised ourselves. 

In the mean time, enough work already. I am supposed to be retired. Today must be the last I work on the apartment. I am not convinced I have done enough, or will have done enough, but I need to stop. I was awake half the night again, never a good thing. I tried reading a much-praised novel with historical errors all over the place and I think I must let it go. I tried reading a famous work of nonfiction, and found I cannot get past the white privilege—how can the author express sympathy for the bearers, their heavy burdens and pitiful pay, without acknowledging that it is he who pays them a dollar a day to carry that weight of 80 pounds or more on their backs? Rich white men going places because they can afford to go, often at the cost of others in more than money. 

Altogether testy and distressed. It is never enough. 

Tomorrow I want a day to work on the novel without worrying about painting or hanging blinds or scrubbing anything.