Thursday

. . .being another in a series of dull titles.

So. . .Got up betimes and went out to shovel the snow that had fallen overnight — about an inch? Inch-and-a-half, maybe? Very fluffy. The moon was high in a dark, cloud-striped sky, keeping watch while I got the deck and the steps and the cars done.  Gloves wet and fingers frozen, I went back inside for coffee and day-job prep.

The rest of the day. . .went badly, I fear. The phrase “weeping with exhaustion — or possibly frustration –” comes to mind. I found that several of my faculty had determined not to “bother” the lady covering my office with various things, which they then wished me to take over, since I was back. Um, thanks for the vote of confidence, I guess.

Back home to pick up Hexapuma and ferry him back into town for a visit with his good friend Dr. Slack, then back to the Cat Farm, where I sat down with George and actually wrote a scant few hundred words. Feeling calmer now, and it’s time for lunch.

Winter storm watch tomorrow from 4 a.m. until 7 p.m., with a call for 4-7 inches. That’ll be fun.

Progress on The Book Presently Known as George:
30,758 words/100,000 OR 30.76% complete

“I think that it is a case,” he said slowly, “of bringing one’s heart and one’s thoughts into — into balance.” He winced then, as if his own words had nipped him.

Originally published at Sharon Lee, Writer. You can comment here or there.