I mean the death of creativity, don’t panic. Or at least a dearth.
It’s 7 on a Saturday morning, I’ve got the whole weekend (mostly) to write, and I can’t even remember that ending I talked about in my last blog. Sheridon seems to be obnoxious just to be a shit, I can’t remember why he acts like that. Taro is mad at me, Rafe isn’t speaking to me, and I’m lucky to remember what ship they’re on.
Sigh. It’s all Hope’s fault. I ask you. If I don’t wake her up at 6 a.m., why does she always wake me up by 6:30? If I wake her up at 6:25, she’s going to be her usual grumpy morning self, so why the magic of 6:30? Sigh. This morning she woke me because she wanted to watch TV. She can’t watch TV without me taking the block off, this is how I control her TV viewing. Unfortunately, short of hiding cords or the entire collection of movies, I don’t have any way to keep her from using the VCR or DVD player. Which I suggested at–oh hell. Can you tell I’m blathering? I can.
Anyway. In the middle of good stuff last night, didn’t get to bed till nearly two, up by 6:30, once I’m up I have to deal with all the animals, can’t just go pee and go back to bed. Sigh once more.
I swear I’ll write today. I will. Just as soon as I can remember who these people are, that I’ve got all these scribbles about, all over my desk. Can anyone tell me why I’d care if Leo Di’Caprio kissed Kiefer Sutherland?
Oh, right. Never mind. Grin.
addendum: 81,065 before I start. Onward!