You Can’t Say You Didn’t Feel The Same At Least Once
G’morning, all. I’m barely conscious but have managed to make it into work–driving without coffee is an adventure. And turning on the espresso machine once one walks in the door and waiting twenty minutes for the damn thing to wake up was even MORE of an adventure. But I’m not complaining.
I didn’t make the Seattle author-a-thon last night; there was an accident on the I5 bridge that held up the Muffin getting home. It was very sad–I couldn’t just throw the kids in the car and go, since they were going to kendo. I REALLY REALLY WANTED to get my ms. copy of Happy Hour of the Damned signed, and to buy a copy too, since it was one of the funniest books I’d read in a long time. *sad face* I ALSO wanted to kibbitz with Richelle about some Fabulous News. Instead, I got the kids and the Muffin out the door and collapsed on my bed to read some of Kipling’s Kim, which is a slow start but starts rollicking at around Chapter Six. After a while there was a plot bunny, and I wandered back to the YA and wrote down one of my high-school fantasies, which involved me having the power to telekinetically choke people without touching them.
Hey, you can’t say you didn’t feel the same way at least ONCE in high school.
I’m knocking off between 3 and 4K a day on the YA, which is good but a little unsatisfying; I can’t type fast enough and I’m in that stage of creative endeavor where any interruption, no matter how minor, is galling. But I’d rather have THAT problem than a dry well.
So today it’s a half-day of work, heading home (where my sisters will be down for the day to coddle and cuddle the Little Prince, who will of course bask in the attention) and a trip out to cat-sit this evening; in between that, I want to get another few thousand words out of the way and set up a love triangle.
Hey, BTW, does anyone on my f-list know someone who knows Bulgarian? Just checking…
