Drinking a coffee and planning out dinner. And writing. No, really, I swear. No. Really. Honest.
Haha. I was about to ask what you'd been drinking. Then I saw the part where you blame your husband. You can always give them to somebody for Xmas next year. Who wouldn't want a key chain with red lips?Flopped on a bed at the Holiday Inn in Gulfport, Mississippi. Wondering why I spent $60 on truck stop junk today. Two coin purses, a key chain with red lips, a Hello Kitty coffee mug and a glass rooster. Conclusion: It's husband's fault for letting me drink wine in the car.
Uh oh, the path to writerly suicide. The world is littered with "authors" who have never completed a novel. I hear they have a lot of great ideas, though.Debating whether or not to jump into a new WIP in the middle of my current WIP because I had to go and get an idea at the worst possible time.
Making an art out of procrastination. Damn, I'm good.
It has long since been a dream of mine to see the physical manifestation of procrastination in art form!
I am doing laundry (BOO!), trying to figure out how to convey my character's sign language in conversation without using italics (I loathe large chunks of italicized text-gives me a headache), and about to help myself to another cup of coffee
Now you're talking my language.
Wait ... could you define external force please?
yeah, those count xDGee, I almost feel like I'm getting to go around peeking in windows here! Er, not that that's anything I would enjoy or anything.
Three rooms cleaned! The entryway, laundry hallway, and half bath all count as rooms, right?
Of course they count! Three rooms. In fact any bathroom counts as two rooms.Gee, I almost feel like I'm getting to go around peeking in windows here! Er, not that that's anything I would enjoy or anything.
Three rooms cleaned! The entryway, laundry hallway, and half bath all count as rooms, right?
I've been on a cranky binge. I feel mean. I don't want to talk to anybody because I can't trust myself to be even semi-nice. Grrr.
I have no idea why.