Morning Lights, Mid-Winter Sun

So I’m sitting here in my fuzzy green bathrobe again, trying to recover from not noticing that the humidifier ran dry, which always seems to equal ‘brain freeze’; it’s like my head turns to wood whenever the humidifiers run down, which can make waking up a serious problem. I wake groggy and head-achy, and any ambition I may have had to get some work done just dribbles away.

So yeah, not with it yet, today. I have to go to Mom’s to do some cleaning, but I’m not functional enough to actually get dressed and leave yet, which is just as well, because I need to buy milk and bus tickets, which means waiting for stores to open.

Listening to Big Big Train again, through headphones, which makes me wish I were a much better musician than I am, because I spent all of those months under headphones listening to my noise, and frankly, I can’t stand the stuff anymore. Almost nobody bought it, and I’m glad they didn’t. I’d take it all down, but really, what’s the point?

Sorry. I’m not intending to be self-pitying here. I’m just tired and groggy and miserable, so cheerfulness and boosterism are in short supply at the moment. I’d skip posting, but I seem to have a small but loyal readership that needs me to post something to reassure them that they haven’t been forgotten. Of COURSE I haven’t forgotten you, whomever you are; you’re almost the only thing keeping me going. My wife comes first, but you folks are a close second.

If you aren’t listening to Big Big Train yet, I’ll tell you right now, you need to fix that, pronto.

I grabbed both of my mini articles on serial fiction writing, and I’m going to have a look at them later and see if there isn’t a better article between them, or perhaps more points to add. I don’t know for sure, but there’s an itch in the back of my head that says I need to revisit that train of thought. If nothing else, I’ll make sure I wrote something about actually sitting down and actually writing the fershluggener thing. Because really, that’s steps one and two of how to write any damned thing at all, as any pro writer (and many of us semi-pros) will tell you: 1. Put @$$ in chair; 2. Write! (3. Keep writing; 4. Finish.)

Black tea with honey is helping to revive my poor brain… oh! It seems that our intrepid (and self-involved) panther has woken my wife. Time to make the coffee and start the day, sans milk. *sigh*

Thanks for reading.

Lee.

Don't be shy. Tell me what you really think, now.

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