I keep thinking I ought to write things

And then hit "I don't even know what to say about the last whatever" and not doing so.

I auditioned for a musical. (I did not get a role, but the people who did the recording seem to have had a blast. I considered the situation win/win; either I get to do the fun thing, or I get to do what I want to on Saturday.)

We made pretzel cookies over videochat with Dad on Saturday, speaking of 'do what I want to'. (These are my great-grandmother's Christmas cookies, which are as of today gone. We will probably do another batch later.)

I turned on godmode in Hades because after a hundred runs I was just not making progress and I know I am neither good at this sort of game nor interested in becoming so, and I have since proceeded mightily in the plot. Not as mightily as I might like, but, y'know. I still can't make the rail go. :P

I have drafts of things for all three ZNB prompts this year, much to my bafflement. (One being something I had already written, which baffles me even more but hey, I have a small pile of short stories so it is becoming plausible that it might happen.)

I am gently exhausted, moderately in pain, have finished first editing pass on the next Celia Lake book (though I was up far too late doing most of it because I was doing a thing and forgot to stop doing a thing).

I have a box of mail-order bagels recommended by synecdochic arriving Wednesday according to tracking so I am hoping that my undercurrent of "I would murder a guy for a decent bagel" can remain in check until then.

Um. Things.