catching up

(written december 28) I’m a proper writer today. I’m hunched over my laptop, wearing a new flannel nighty and floppy pants under my new robe, and blue fuzzy socks on my feet. No need to get dressed when you’re a professional writer, that’s what this look says. Do your work in your PJs, that’s what this look is. Carefree and anti-establishment, that’s me. Nevermind that I felt too pathetic to bother getting dressed this morning. Not the point.

Of course, if I were really a proper writer I’d probably be hunched over my vellum with a quill instead of a laptop, and this orange-zinc fizzy drink (hey, that rhymed!) I have at my elbow would be small beer or whiskey or bourbon, but hell, I’m not in a heatless garrett writing by candlelight in Paris, either, so I’ll just go with what I’ve got.

My sister gave me this drink. The fizz in it at least rips the phlegm from my aching throat, which means it’s worth drinking. It also tastes more or less like watery Tang with fizz, so it’s not even awful to drink. Shaun thinks it’s downright yummy, and I had to leap upon him and beat him savagely with a wooden spoon in order to pry it from his greedy fingers.

I’ve just finished the fourth Thursday Next novel, and it’d better be the last. I’ll be very disappointed in Jasper Fforde if he writes more. Fortunately, the next book of his advertised is a different series, so I trust he’s not going to disappoint me. Trent, when everybody in my family has finished reading these books, I’ll send them to you. :)

I’m too lazy to even make bread today. Bread is not hard to make. Bread mostly requires no effort on my part. Maybe 10 minutes worth of work, interspersed by periods of waiting. None-the-less, too lazy to make bread today. The long holiday weekend is mostly over (except for cases where people have said sod it, they’ll be back on the 3rd), so the supermarket should be open and I can just buy a loaf of bread there.

‘course, that requires going out into the cold cold morning (hey, it’s frosty! that’s cold!) and dragging myself down to the supermarket. Eh, we’ve got to go see the garda today anyway, so I might as well buy bread.

Tell ya what, though. I’m trying to think of a good reason not to go back to bed, and not coming up with many…

(a while later)

Do you ever experience frustration when there is, say, a book that you want lying a couple feet out of reach, and despite your expectations, glancing at it and trying to bring it to you with the power of your mind does not work?

Maybe it’s just me.