Okay. Okay, okay. Alright, alright, alright. Sometimes to start a song, you gotta build yourself up a little momentum.
I am working, or will be, tonight and into tomorrow on language for the novel. Conlangin’ it up and shit. Which I want to do, but everything seems to be running on its own standard of chronology. Also, I’m flat out giddy with the oncoming weekend beaming so near to my face. It is a day of sleeping in and scullery-ing and possibly, possibly, possibly, somehow, adding money versus subtracting it from my account. Possibly. I do have to get my stupid license plates renewed. I’m sure you’re equally engaged for with stupid tasks and little joys.
I have been good, diet-wise, exercise-wise. Imperfect, but plenty good. Cooked myself a chicken thigh and some green beans and felt as though I sat down to Babette’s Feast.
More to say, but quotas have been filled with +330 words of praise written and emailed to someone who rightly deserved it.