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  • Writer's pictureD. G. Martin

The Fight Against Illiteracy

Window sill that has been eaten by termites.
Nom. Nom. Chompy. Chomp.

For some reason, today feels like it’s the first office day of the year.

I’ve been in here most days since the 1st, and I’ve even worked in here since then, too, but I think with everything that’s been going on, today feels like the first day this since the New Year that I’m in my office specifically to have an office day. To get some writing done. To feel like I can hit the deadline that is now….82 DAYS AWAY!!!!

Ahem, so, yeah. There’s that. 

But let’s take a moment to see why today feels like the first office day of the year. 

First, there’s the termites. Yeah, had some of those in the house. In my office specifically, actually. I still lack a window sill. (Picture above was from before it got ripped out.)  Does that mean my office is technically exposed to the elements? I’m not up on how that works. I’m going to assume it’s only exposed to the outer wall. That’s still intact, thankfully. 

So the guy came and treated the house for termites yesterday. Hopefully that’s the end of that. Minus the window sill repair, of course. 

There just seems to be a lot of things to juggle when starting a new year. Maybe it’s uniquely been the past week on its own, though, which is possible. I’ve been helping my wife with some of her business troubles, going around town a bit for some errands, making sure my new Office Buddy feels like I’ve properly ceded and shared my office appropriately. (She’s not high maintenance at all, so that hasn’t been a burden.) That did require a trip to the Container Store. 

But the biggest problem, yes even bigger than the termites, is that my CPAP died about a week ago. I’m trying to get into the doctor, a brand new one who doesn’t have access to my previous sleep study, as soon as possible, but until I can get a new prescription for a CPAP, I’m kinda in a bad way when it comes to resting and recharging my body. 

I’ve been sleeping in my chair in our living room most nights after repeated attempts to go to bed regularly, but I usually just end up with a headache. 

So yeah, I’ve been pretty cloudy-headed for the past week, which I know has contributed to my inability to sit down and write. 

But all this is not to complain. Sure, I’ll complain about the dead brain cell headaches, compliments of my dead CPAP machine, but the rest is just life. 

Ah, life. 

Speaking of life, I started reading again over the holiday break. 

Sounds weird, right? I never stopped reading, but I had kinda stopped “reading” for a while. 

They say part of an author’s job is to read as much or more than they write. I needed to stop being derelict in my job duties. 

So now, there’s dedicated time to reading in my schedule. I know, still sounds weird. I wonder if it sounds as weird for you to read it as it is for me to write it?

Regardless, it’s not like I’d regressed into a state of near-illiteracy. I had just let my daily schedule give me no time for *serious reading.

But I can’t do that anymore. I have to bury myself in a book, more than one preferably, and never let myself be “out of things to read” ever again. 


Also, does anybody know why Facebook advertised really explicit sex dice to me this morning? 

I have questions, and most of them don’t belong here. 


* “Serious reading” in this context in no way means that I’m reading that crap they fed me in college, calling it “literature” in an attempt to get me to hate the English language’s written word. No, I mean it in the sense of serious reading time. Dedicated to reading science fiction and fantasy trash novels that cut out all the character development for action and the “good stuff”. I’m not fancy in my reading. I want to read the garbage. Garbage is way more fun than the refined crap. 

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