Secret Weapon?

Today was supposed to be my 5K day, a day entirely focused on writing. Even though when I got home from the write-in and I discovered that somehow my numbers didn’t add up, I at least managed 4,200 words which I am mighty pleased with.

(Still think I did manage the 5,000 words and that the words might have gotten chewed in the whole adding-to-your-previous-wordcount. For NaNoWriMo, I’m erring on the low side.)

Felt like I had a little good luck charm. The MLs for our region came up with the coolest mascot – the owl! And I love owls, ever since I was a kid. I remember in Grade Five creating a database of owls for a project and just falling in love with them. (No doubt this was slightly influenced by the movie Labyrinth, but anyways.)

Now, an inelegant segue.

When you move into a new house there are leftovers, things abandoned on purpose or by accident. You either sweep it away with the rest of the garbage or it stays as though it’s a feature of the house you can’t change, like the bend in the eavestrough or the tiles that are just the wrong shade compared to their neighbors.

Apartments I exclude from this strange rule of moving. They’re usually too small to collect the same volume of junk and are usually truly bare when you move in.

In my first house after living in apartments for a while, there were these leftovers. Hangers and bleach in the laundry, small plastic toy pieces inside and behind a few of the drawers. In the basement, though, are treasures. There is a handmade piece of artwork, likely a child’s project, of copper that has had a butterfly pushed into it. It’s nailed to one of the main support beams of the 80-year-old house. Probably still there. But the cane I found in the basement, made of a perfect, single piece of wood with the handle naturally extending over? That I took. I have a suspicion I’ll be needing it.

The new apartment, while it should be exempt from these discoveries, is part of an old house, one that had been renovated years ago into sections. The laundry area has things down here that have lived there either as long as my folks have owned it (10 years) or were here long before.

Case in point, this weird little owl mug. It’s been downstairs on a small shelf by the laundry machine for years, no kidding. Ugly as hell, too. It didn’t come with my folks, oh no. I’d remember it. But you look at something long enough, these things grow on you. I kept eyeing it, then grabbed it for shit jobs, putting out matches, rinsing out sinks.

And then I looked at the odd little retro owl, and thought, why not? It’s our NaNoWriMo mascot, right?

So here he is. He plied me full of blueberry white tea and I wrote like the wind today.

Say hi, buddy!

(Wow, long entry!)


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