This has been a completely awesome day. I got up around 8 and got 500 words written, which isn’t, y’know, earth-shattering, but it’s better than 0 words written, and I ought to be able to slodge my way through the rest of this chapter tomorrow morning. I think. Anyway, the point is I got some writing done, which, given how much else I did today, is quite amazing. We did our weekly shopping, only Fred Meyer didn’t have any good sports bras and my last one exploded, so I needed…
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tired
Tired now. I did do some edits on TQB, though, and I think it might be pretty readable. :) And watched Dangerous Beauty, which I still like a lot. I feel like I’m updating a lot today. But now I’m going to go to bed, and… yep. Bed. G’night. :)
*contented sigh*
I haven’t been feeling all that well today (I think I ate too many things that weren’t good for me) and so I spent, well, since the last posting, reading Carol Berg’s SONG OF THE BEAST, which was really a tremendously good story, and very well written. I’m sort of sliding between reading more, watching some Highlander, or doing a little more writing (or maybe TQB editing) for the rest of the evening. Content, sleepy me.
woot!
Got my 1500 words for the day, donno if I’ll do any more. I know where I’m picking up with this chapter, and suddenly as I was writing it I had the idea that I had 10 chapters to go. I don’t know if that’s actually accurate, but I think it’s pretty close. So if I manage 1500 words a day I ought to be done by 20 Feb, and since nothing ever works as planned, I *anticipate* being done by 1 Mar. Which is one year exactly before it’s…
stargate, chiro, & stuff
I decided yesterday afternoon that I needed to go to the chiro, so I made an appointment and went over and my back went CRRRRRRSHT! CRRRRRRRSHT! And is a lot better now, except I stayed in bed too long this morning so it’s sort of stiff. After the chiro Ted and I drove around a bit and went to the comic shop, where I failed to be able to harrass (our favorite comic shop guy) Christopher (apparently he’s been holding out on me; evidently he’s an artist, and I want…