A little sideways this morning. It could be the weather, it could be an internal emotional reshuffling. Too soon to tell. I have to wait for the caffeine to soak in before I try anything requiring decision-making. I went from standing at the kitchen sink with my hoodie’s hood pulled all the way up, staring out the window while I licked espresso foam off the measuring spoon used to stir said quad-shot, to being in my office humming a Lana del Rey tune while I tried to plug in my mug and put my phone on the coaster next to my keyboard.
…it’s gonna be one of THOSE days, I can just tell.
It’s a dark morning, but that’s only to be expected the day before Yule. It’s very fitting, since I’m revising the first Black Land’s Bane again and it starts on the longest night of the year. I’m finally on the right track again, though it took weeks of being interrupted plus that whole jury duty fiasco and concomitant illness to get back. The book is resurrected. Not sure about the rest of the series, but that’s a Future Lili problem.
That bitch will curse her past self, but it can’t be helped.
The weather folks are saying snow will happen soonish, but I’m suspicious. The wind just doesn’t taste right; instead, I think we’ll get a day or two’s worth of sleet. Boxnoggin will absolutely love that, I’m sure. He’ll need lots of praise, and won’t want to amble as is his usual wont. He’ll be all business instead, looking to unload, huff at a few of his usual spots, then book it uphill. Running will be fun too, though I’ll have to keep careful watch on my footing. The new running shoes–it was about time, the old ones have definitely lost their cushion, as evinced by the back, knee, and foot pain–will help. They’re grippy little things.
I’ve started and deleted several paragraphs, which is generally a sign I should just bring this to a close, finish the last swallow of espresso, and get going since I won’t be able to wring any daily thoughts out of my brain-meat. Some days the blogging comes easily. Other days I’m unwilling to let the curtain part. Might as well save my energy for the revision, since I’ll have to insert at least one scene today. Getting an elf to explain their particular variety of horse-magic will be grand, and I can likewise poke a bit of sly fun at some ill-tempered louts, which is always a good time.
So I’ve my work cut out for me. Boxnoggin has not pranced down the hall to roust me for breakfast, but he can be forgiven for going back to bed. I wouldn’t mind doing that myself, but the story is burning in my fingertips once more. It’s a relief; I was terrified this story was irretrievably gone. But a little more caffeine, a little toast, some time spent outside in the cold darkness, and I’ll be ready to tango again.
And tomorrow is the solstice. I’m ready for the long night; I hope you are too.