… since R. took off for the holidays:
1. Some percentage of my not-blogging is directly attributable to his presence here in Claremont. Which is to say not that he’s interfering with the writing process, but that some percentage (that same percentage) of my blogging was fueled by a general need for communication. And with him in the house, there’s always somebody to talk to. Hence, a much lowered need to talk to the internet.
2. I develop very bad habits when he’s away — or re-develop, as the case may be. I indulge all of my worst impulses, just out of a need to make myself feel better. Also because I can. Not that he’d fuss at me if he were here, but I’d feel like he ought to fuss at me, and so wouldn’t indulge in the same way if he were around.
These two things together might seem to suggest some sense in which blogging is a bad habit, which I don’t at all believe. But it is a habit that I associate with my living-alone-dom, rather than my life with him. And so if I’m going to re-cultivate that habit, without re-cultivating the actual bad habits (of which the less said the better, I think), I need to figure out — for the umpteenth time — some new mode or means of writing here, that can keep me going.