*sings off-key* Oh, Bwunhilda, you’re so wuvely…”
Every once in a while a day comes along where everything is hilarious, almost without exception. Child wakes up late for school and his bedhead is truly epic? Laughter. Dog trips me going down the stairs and I almost fall to my death? Giggles. Squirrel on the deck taunting said dog (I believe I saw an obscene gesture or two)? Chuckles. Cavy keeps yelling about how he’d rather listen to Lana del Rey than Rossini? Well, not quite hilarious, but certainly amusing. (At least del Rey keeps him quiet. He’s taken over poor passed-on Critic’s role.)
I do not want to leave the house today. We are low on bread flour, but I am cogitating upon using whole-wheat and vital gluten to add to the poolish. I only hope the math involved does not cause my head to explode. Although, really, if it does, I shall no doubt find that funny as well.
In other news, Kevin Hearne has been saying some very nice things about Roadside Magic. (Apparently it made him forget a manspreader next to him on a plane. HIGH COMPLIMENT INDEED.) There’s nothing quite like hearing another author “getting” what you were trying to do with a book. It’s like when my agent said, “Well, you’re more of a writer’s writer,” and I actually choked with surprise before beaming all the rest of the day.
Well. There’s wordcount to be done, vital gluten to measure, a poolish to whisper into bread, cavy nails to clip, all the laundry I didn’t get done yesterday because the kids were doing theirs (not complaining) and various other bits and bobs to do. First, though, a run, during which I’m sure B will try to kill me. (HIJINKS WILL ENSUE.) Let’s hope I’m rolling 20s on my avoid-ass-over-teakettles.
Over and out.