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Fluids. Sleep. And all that good stuff.
Today's work: 409 words, which is, I think, all of section 34 barring tweaks. I was feeling awful, so I figured I'd just do a paragraph or two to get the beginning of the scene down, and . . . well. Okay. I'm not going to argue.
Also, the infernal editor amuses me. Had a dream last night that involved being a catcher at the major league level (which amuses me in retrospect, as I've always played outfield, and never on a proper team, more's the pity). It was going on quite well until some level of consciousness broke in with, "Your wrists would not be dealing this gracefully with handling a major league fastball." At which point the whole thing dissolved.
Today's work: 409 words, which is, I think, all of section 34 barring tweaks. I was feeling awful, so I figured I'd just do a paragraph or two to get the beginning of the scene down, and . . . well. Okay. I'm not going to argue.
Also, the infernal editor amuses me. Had a dream last night that involved being a catcher at the major league level (which amuses me in retrospect, as I've always played outfield, and never on a proper team, more's the pity). It was going on quite well until some level of consciousness broke in with, "Your wrists would not be dealing this gracefully with handling a major league fastball." At which point the whole thing dissolved.
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