NaNoWriMo day 25 – looking back in contentment

It is a truth universally acknowledged that it is not very fashionable to be contented. We must all strive ever harder for more and more things, most of which need to be upgraded, replaced or renewed at ever-decreasing intervals.

So today I had an unfashionable day. Various offspring might be inclined to comment wryly that perhaps, mother, you don’t have any other kind of day. To which I might retort, somewhat tartly, that actually yes I have, thank you so very much, as recently as 15 August 1976. Now go and do something useful, like the washing up.

Unfashionable? Why so, EBL?

Let me tell you. Today I was simply content with the things going on in my life. I don’t need no education, I don’t need no thought control, advertisers leave this kid alone!

I didn’t promise this was going to be an exciting post, did I? No? Thank goodness for that. I don’t like to break promises. To prove it, I kept one today which I made to myself, so no living humans were at risk of harm. I reached my 50k word count for NaNoWriMo. Yay.

Regular readers will be aware that yesterday I came within a gnat’s whisker of it anyway, so this is perhaps not a surprise. I was, however, buoyed up to read that an author whose work I quite enjoy blogged to say he had written 40k since 1 November on his new novel, and he reckoned that was 90% of the job done. He’s a real author and publishes lots of books and is actually quite popular, so I felt in good company. Admittedly his first draft is more likely to resemble a real novel than mine, but it’s a good start.

Lots more work to do on my novel, but the barrier is overcome, the basic body of work is there. In a sense, the Rubicon is crossed. I am now editing, not writing afresh. I have produced something akin to a novel. For the moment, I am content with that.

I am also aware hard work is to follow, but I am content with that too.

Further contentment ensued as I sat in front of the fire, caught up on emails, did a job I had been putting off, and then in the afternoon, went to visit Sigoth’s parents and his cousin and new spouse on a visit from NZ. Tea, cakes and chat are pleasant occupations for a Sunday afternoon. This is especially true if they are provided by other people so that there are no significant implications of the washing up or clearing away variety. What made this even more enjoyable (I know! More!) was the fact that we spent quite a lot of time talking about books.

Oh, the luxury! I haven’t had a good book discussion in ages. We had similar tastes as well, so books Sigoth’s Cousin had enjoyed and recommended are now on my list of possible purchases. I realise I miss this kind of conversation very much so I will now have to get my thinking cap on about how to do something about that. Sigoth and I can have rousing discussions, even rumbustious ones, including some robust exchanges of views (for which, read “arguments”), but in the end we are only two people who have spent so long together now that we can read each other’s thoughts. It’s like talking to yourself.


Contentment, if we can only recognise it, is a wonderful gift. My batteries feel recharged, after a virtual soak in a hot bath for the soul.

I wish you bubbles and candlelight and clean, soapy goodness, real or virtual (or both) as you prefer.


NaNoWriMo day 24 – looking back in lists

Just ticking off the words: 49,891 so far. Or as NaNoWriMo would say, “Words Remaining 109; Words Per Day To Finish On Time 19”. That looks achievable.

Anyway, I have another 10k in hand from pre-November, and as I mentioned previously, I don’t care about word count per se. I just don’t like to give false impressions to those who take the challenge properly. After all, I reckon both “The Uncommon Reader” and “War and Peace” count as published literature, even if one is a novella and the other is a doorstop.

Yesterday was a day for ticking things off a list.

My first job, as I indicated yesterday , was to upload my posts, and to read the blogs I follow (thank you all for being so lovely and warm and witty and inspiring!). I had shoddy Internet connectivity all morning until I gave in and switched the router off and on again. Sometimes it’s best to get back to basics, unless you are a politician, in which case you are an idiot. (Although that’s an oxymoron.) My interpretation of back to basics is that you start with solid foundations and build up from there. In political terms it appears to mean leaving vulnerable people to die in the gutter and sending single mothers to asylums or condoning the casual wife beater because he uses a stick no wider than his thumb.

Anyway, moving on…it would seem the technotroubles have left me a little irritable this morning. I haven’t had my coffee yet, either, although the smell of it brewing is soothing me slightly. Lord, give me patience, right now!

Back to the list then. Sigoth spent the day putting up long-awaited shelves in the bedroom alcove. Admittedly that was his list, but a list is a list. He’s such a treasure. I think part of the reason was to leave me to get on with this alleged novel. He has plans for one himself, so hopefully he will make a start on it soon. We keep talking about the plot but it’s a bit tricky. We agree it might be better as a series of related short stories, but Sigoth likes to have everything ready before starting, whereas I charge in like a bull in a china shop and just write any old rubbish.

I admit, but only to you, dear friends (ssh, don’t tell Sigoth), that he has a point. Although I wrote 3344 words yesterday in a sort of edit mode, I spent too long doing it because I was trying to sequence everything. I wrote minus-822 words at one point after I slashed a section in a frenzy of self-criticism. That was largely caused by not writing in order. It doesn’t help that there are lots of flashbacks either – at what point do I introduce them to the reader? At this point it mat help to imagine EBL clutching her head in mortal anguish.

In real life I am a project manager. I do plans and contingencies and risks and deadlines for my actual paid living. It’s true. Not only that, I do it pretty well most of the time. I manage IT projects to time, quality and budget. I should have a medal.

EBL, wait to edit later. This is still November! Patience, cherie.

I also realised I need to learn Spanish. Either that or I have to relocate part of the story from the Spanish civil war to the Germans walking into Paris, as I do have sufficient French and, indeed, German. It puts me out by a few years but might be better. The actual conflict is less important than the fact it was a conflict, if that makes sense. I just need trauma, people!

So, lists. I wish you wouldn’t keep distracting me…

The next thing to tick off was changing the bed and washing the sheets, which I accomplished with aplomb and grace, as always.

The rest of the list included things like washing up, dusting and hoovering, and sorting out the linen cupboard. Not so successful, in that they didn’t happen at all. It is generally understood that artists have to suffer for their art, so I have to manage to cope with a dusty house and chaotic linen cupboard. I’m being brave about it; I knew the risks when I started this job. Plus the house is always dusty but now I have an excuse. You can’t argue with Art. She always wins. (Unless you are a politician – see above.)

And finally, as the Two Ronnies would say, a glass of wine, Sarah Lund, knitwear and adrenaline. Some things are sacrosanct.

Tak for læsning.


NaNoWriMo Day 23 – looking back in techno-rage

I feel like apologising for the delay in posting the last post (because I know you can’t start your day without a healthy dose of EBL Goodness). Then I realised it really was not my fault. However, I have a confession to make before I go any further: my name is EBL, and I have been working in Information Technology for 25 years.

Technology, don’t you just love it?

Yesterday (Day 23 to those in NaNoWriMoLand) I travelled for work. I carried my trusty netbook and planned to scribe on the train. I entrained and scribed. When I got home that night I prepared to lock onto WordPress and load the scribing. My netbook was of a different opinion.

Technology, don’t you just love the way it gives you cheek?

I expressed my displeasure. You may have heard me? Certainly I got complaints from Switzerland, but they are a bit like that sometimes.

Initially the fault appeared to lie, as it so often does, not in the stars but in Chrome, which is the browser I use on the netbook. I installed it in order to try it out and keep it in order to remind myself why I prefer Firefox. It’s a personal choice, don’t judge me. Then I noticed the dreaded icon indicating that a Windows update was in the midst of hogging my system. No chance of even writing anything with that little piggy rampaging through my resources.

Well, my dears, it was Friday night. Sigoth arrived home a little after me. We indulge in our Friday ritual of Radio 4 and tea on our laps. We opened a bottle of wine, and I decided I would upload the post first thing in the morning via my trusty old laptop. The one with Firefox, and the latest windows update already painfully installed.

Up with the lark this morning. The lark in question is living in a time zone in the mid-Atlantic, so not very early, but the thought was there as I snuggled under the Blanket of Inspiration. It’s a cold, misty morning here, although it could be so much worse as those who live in the south-west are aware.

“Good morning, trusty laptop,” I carolled cheerfully, even larkily. “Let’s get to NaNoWriMo, and don’t spare the horses!”

Trusty Laptop struggled into life. She is becoming quite elderly these days, by which I mean 3 years old. I’m not sure how computer years equate to human years or even dog years, but am pretty sure she is at least over the menopause and heading for a pension. Some of her pixels are looking a bit grey and there are wrinkles on her keyboard. Or possible tea stains, I’m not entirely sure.

Finally she was ready to go, and I fired up the post for uploading. Skype moaned into life and indicated that Number One Offspring was already on-line (another lark, bless, I remember well his early years of reading in bed at three in the morning so as not to disturb us). Up came the thunderous, birdy email and up came the browser in all its fiery, foxy glory. No emails to download and web pages not available.

Excuse me?

Technology, eh? Don’t you just want to shake it warmly by the throat?

No errors of course. Connection all OK, Skype was running fine; as it to emphasise it another contact pinged on-line.

So…connected to t’Interweb, but no web or email. To use the current idiom, WTF (it means “What’s that, Firefox?”)?

Closed both web and email and restarted them. No luck.

Disconnected connection and reconnected. No luck.

The techie in me shuddered to consider having to switch it off and on again. That’s for n00bs, don’cha know?

Technology, the best way to fill your day with pointless activity ever invented.

I did close and restart the programs again, since I had reset the connection, and this time it worked. So I managed to upload yesterday’s post.

Success was predicated on following the usual, well-known technology problem-solving process, described here. If you ever (I mean, when you ever..) have a computer problem, this will work.

In other shock news, pens and paper are still an effective means of writing down words.


NaNoWriMo Day 22 – looking back in distraction

It was a quiet day at EBL Towers, so obviously I was going to make great strides both at work and in my writing. Yeah, right.

I suffered that syndrome known far and wide, that leaves us weak in its power to prevent us from achieving more than a fleeting moment of partial success. I did manage to achieve agreement over a particular question in a meeting. Whoop. Hang out the bunting. The Eagle, as they say, has landed!

With all the resources at my disposal, a clear run at a major task that had been hanging over me, and a firm instruction to colleagues regarding the advisability of interruptions, I failed significantly to even open the document I had to work on. First I caught up on the backlog of emails. Then I tidied up some folders. I did open a completely different document and faff about with that. Then it was nearly time for a booked call so not worth starting if I was going to have to stop. Plus the birds on the bird feeder were so cute.

All in all, I only managed to force myself to start work on the thing at midday, and edited about two paragraphs before I was genuinely interrupted with a proper problem.

Those hours, my dears, are lost and gone forever, and I have nothing to show for them, except some fond memories of the birds on the feeder, and worrying that the ash tree we were going to cut down ought to be left in case it is one of the minority immune to Ash Die Back. I am old enough to remember Dutch Elm Disease. I don’t want to see it all over again, although apparently no one is going to ask me. I know, I was as shocked as you!

On the subject of elms, when I was little I went to visit the undertaker. Our next door neighbour worked there, and we were doing a project about trees at school so I thought I would go and ask him what they used to make the coffins.

“Elm,” he said and took me and my friend into the workshop where they made them. It was great! The smell of wood shavings and lots of beautiful, carefully made, lovingly and respectfully made, caskets with gleaming polished surfaces and gleaming polished brass handles and adornments. I found it profoundly satisfying.

When Dutch Elm Disease devastated the nation a year or two later, I was very concerned about how people would be buried, having lost my grandmother the year before and being of a naturally morbid frame of mind. Mr B reassured me that they could use other wood, so that was alright and I found other things to worry about.

See how easily I am distracted? Yesterday was like that all day.

I did write in the evening, upstairs in my lovely new office. Sigoth wanted to watch television after a hard day down the treacle mines, so I left him to it, and we caught up over a cup of tea when the programme was over and I had crafted 1775 words. Hard graft it was, because as I mentioned previously, I am now in edit mode rather than full blown outpourings. So more distraction as I realise that someone’s jumper has inexplicable changed into a duffle coat, or whatever.

I hope your own outpourings are free and untrammelled, and you bestride the page like mighty colossi.



NaNoWriMo Day 21 – looking back in learning

Dear Friends, last night I managed a reasonable number of words thanks to being alone in a hotel room with no significant distraction. No, Gary Sinise, not even you.

As predicted, the day was then busy, but I learned quite a few things. I attended usability testing for the IT system I manage, and I learned that people are far kinder than we deserve but also that on the whole they very sensibly agree with me about what needs changing. It was very affirming to find out that I do know what I am talking about.

Have you ever had this happen: that you are doing a task, be it at work or home or in a volunteering setting, and you just feel everyone else knows more than you and you will be exposed as a fraud any moment? Imposter Syndrome. It affects a number of people, including high-fliers (unlike me!) and usually women.

I feel Imposter Syndrome almost all the time at work. It’s great to get evidence like we did yesterday, so I can prove to myself that I am competent. I do listen to hard evidence like that, rather than the assurances of colleagues. They can tell me if the system works for them (is good enough), but they can’t tell me if I have provided the best possible solution or not.

So I learned I am OK. Felt good.

I also learned that I still don’t care enough about what I eat. I didn’t have time for lunch, so I ate junk food in the testing session. Then I felt rubbish all evening. Just say no, EBL! When the nice lady offers to go out and pick up a salad for you, nod! Stop thinking you can’t be a trouble to her – the shop is literally opposite the office door.

So I learned I need to value myself better. Nothing new here, move along.

The train home was the one all the commuters catch so there was no chance to write until we got to York. If I want to be chirpy about it, I could say that fortunately there was a signalling problem and we were delayed which gave me more time to write. I could say that, but I was tired and felt bloated from the crisps, and wanted to get home to see Sigoth and check mother had not been killed by the new carers.

I got home, saw Sigoth, and mother was alive. So that was all good too.

I wrote a little more in the evening but somehow it slipped into editing. Total: 910 words.

I learned I need to focus on writing still. My approach to writing the shell and then filling in had worked really well up until this point, but now when I go back to extend passages I end up re-reading and editing instead. If this was a real novel then that would be fine, but this isn’t any novel, this is a Novemberful, high-octane, quantitatively-assessed NaNoWriMo novel, so word count is still the holy grail.

I learned I don’t really care about word count. I knew that before, but got sucked into it by the pretty bar chart. Now I see it again. Hurrah!

I’ll share an Advice from British Quakers with you about learning, which I find helpful.

There is inspiration to be found all around us, in the natural world, in the sciences and arts, in our work and friendships, in our sorrows as well as in our joys. Are you open to new light, from whatever source it may come?


NaNoWriMo Day 20 – looking back in busyness

1,545 words written late at night, sitting in a hotel room with CSI: New York as background music. You can only imagine the quality of the prose. Actually, perhaps you can’t, or shouldn’t.

My NaNo total is now 43,543. I recalculated it to take account of the 10k or so I had written prior to November, but had thoughtlessly included when I signed up to the website. It seemed only fair, as the challenge is basically one of numbers and dates. We don’t do quality in November. There are 11 other months for that. November is about production like December is about consumption.

So, 1,545 by 23:30 on 20/11/2012. That’s numberlicious.

I’m pleased to manage that much, to be honest. The train was a nightmare coming over to Leeds in the morning and I had a horrible experience which I can’t tell you about because I did a bad thing to a poor old man. Not intentionally, never that, but I was so cluttered with a suitcase and laptop and handbag and Blackberry buzzing and thoughts whirling that I just didn’t pay attention. And sorry is one thing, but next time, EBL, just think before you act! Busy is not an excuse.

No pensioners were permanently maimed and no emergency services were called. My neck was burned by the glares of other commutes though, and quite rightly.

Then a long busy day, you know the kind of thing. Stuff to be done, and fortunately most of it interesting, and some frustrating but not anything I can’t handle. But busy, oh yes, to the max. As busy as a bee that is the Professor of Busy at Busy University (to paraphrase).

In the evening I caught up with a friend who also stays over in Leeds for work, sometimes at the same time as me. I’ll just do a shout-out for Nawaab’s, because we almost always go there and we love it. Cheap, plentiful, really tasty food and lovely staff, about a couple of hundred metres from the station. This is not going to turn into a restaurant guide, so relax. It’s just good to say when you find somewhere you like.

It may surprise you to learn that I, EBL, masked blogger extraordinaire and violet of the shrinking variety, can be verbose. I know, it’s a real shocker, isn’t it? And what’s an even more amazing coincidence is that I seem to have friends who are on the chatty side as well. Hence 1,545 at 23:30. We finished early because it was a school night, and we had to be up and at ‘em in the morning. But I couldn’t get to sleep, even when chloroformed by CSI, so I did my NaNoDuTy and that helped. Achievement is a great soporific.

Sadly it is not a long lasting soporific so I gave up at about 05:00 and got up. I don’t sleep well away from home, without a Sigoth to keep me snug and scare away the monsters. Never mind, it’s a perfect opportunity to dribble over a keyboard some more, and inflict the mundanity of my daily grind upon you.

Time to buzz off, my lovelies, as Friend who Stays in Leeds and I are doing breakfast today, happening for once to be bunked the same hotel. What a great start to the morning! I’m not sure when I will manage to post this, but hope to catch up with you all soon.

May your day be busy and bright, and may none of your pages stay white!


NaNoWriMo Day 19 – looking back in astonishment

I thought I had had a reasonable weekend with a total of about 6000 words. Given the other demands it had seemed like it was good enough.

I’m a big fan of good enough. It all started when I was a student and learned about “good enough parenting”. When I became a parent, I think that single concept kept me going when all else failed. I pictured my tutor sitting there, saying “Kids grow up reasonably normal in spite of their parents, rarely because of them.” I can only assume he was a fan of Philip Larkin.

Can I write good enough? Who knows? But today I have written 4244 words, despite only grabbing an hour at lunch and a little more this evening. It’s like something in my brain suddenly said “Oh, you mean like this?”

I just hope I can keep that going over the remaining days of November.

On a less positive note my mother’s new carers took over today and managed to fail to give her her medication both at breakfast and at lunch. I’m not sure how much more irritating it could be. Fortunately the really vital meds are the ones I give her in the evening. This is because I don’t trust carers. Today is an example of why.

I know there are many well-meaning, competent people out there who provide care. A number of them provide it to my mother; they are good enough and more. But it only takes one idiot to put her at risk. And there seems to be a number of them around as well.

‘Ware rant!

I don’t feel it is too much to ask for people to take their jobs seriously, to try and think a little about what they are doing and to raise an alarm when it is not going right. Really, just think for a moment, carer people. If someone needs medication there is probably a reason. So if you can’t give medication, do something about it, don’t just leave a note on a piece of paper which won’t be read until the evening. You have the doctor’s details. Perhaps that might be a place to start.

And relax.

Mother seems fine this evening, if a little breathless (asthma and emphysema to contend with). I can’t worry about missing the meds, because I left my time machine in my other coat pocket, so that’s that. She’s alive and stuffed her dinner down with gusto. No harm done.

My mother has lived a long and mostly happy life, with its seasoning of sadness along the way. She has been blessed and continues to receive good care with blips here and there. According to the notes, I am her advocate because she doesn’t like to cause a fuss. You can read between the line son that and I will happily accept that I will cause a fuss for her. With my headteacher voice and everything.

The world is an astonishing place. Sometimes that’s a double edged sword, and the astonishment can be at the gap between expectation and reality. On the whole though, I’m with Tim Minchin:

“I am a tiny, insignificant, ignorant lump of carbon.
I have one life, and it is short
And unimportant…
But thanks to recent scientific advances
I get to live twice as long
As my great great great great uncleses and auntses.
Twice as long to live this life of mine
Twice as long to love this wife of mine
Twice as many years of friends and wine”

Be astonishing, and if you don’t feel like that today, then be good enough. If you don’t feel good enough, celebrate that with the help of science you have twice as long to figure out what to do about it.


NaNoWriMo Day 18 – looking back in achievement

Sunday, the alleged day of rest. It’s the day so many people use to get everything done except resting. Naturally Sigoth and , as fans of tradition, adhere to the conventional wisdom and imitate the chicken sans tête, rather than the action of the tiger. We moved my office.

Fortunately for me, Sigoth did most of the work, so I was able to write. For those of you keeping count I churned out 3095 pearls. Unfortunately many of those pearls would serve another purpose better than that of my novel. They were perfectly sound words, just not in this particular combination. I am led to believe that that is what editing is for.

This morning I am experimenting with writing for your entertainment in a new location, rather than the usual settee in the living room. It gives me a different window to look out while I beseech the muse for inspiration. As it faces east, I am enjoying the sunrise, which is especially fine this morning. I’m not sure it helps me to write anything, but it is pretty.

The weekend has been an achieving weekend. Saturday was fruitful, which is the posh word for busy in these parts, and Sunday more so. I even scared myself by starting Christmas shopping online. I know I won’t manage to get into town to do it this year, so it was the logical option. Everyone loves a gift from eBay, right? (Only kidding, offspring!)

The most important thing, though, was a long conversation with a friend who had just had a full mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. All has gone well, if in a sore and gradual manner and it seems there are no nasties left lurking. For which we are grateful. We both reflected on the miracle that is modern medical science, the kindness of the people who work in the NHS and our great good fortune to be alive at a time when e can be given these opportunities.

Along with pride in the BBC, I share my pride in the NHS. We are a society that wants to care for everyone in need. I know it’s a bit of a mystery to other nations how it all works, but it is our greatest national achievement and I cherish it.

For writer’s cramp, call 111. Otherwise stop prevaricating and back to your plots and scenes, my lovelies! Share the love.


NaNoWriMo Day 17 – looking back in relief

Well, my dears, how was your Saturday? Mine was pretty good, thanks.

You may have gathered from yesterday’s post that I picked up my reading glasses? What a difference it makes to be able to see when you’re typing. I had a very productive afternoon’s wordsmithing while Sigoth deconstructed a wardrobe. 2908 victories, my Friends, 2908 little combinations of letters into recognisable meaning. I can’t comment about the meta-meaning of the sentences, but nevertheless, a victory was achieved.

In preparation for this Herculean task (OK, I know it’s not that impressive really, but the past couple of days have been a bit lacking in wordage) Sigoth and I went into town to collect the aforementioned glasses, drop off clutter in the charity shop, acquire fresh clutter from the charity shop, drop Offspring back in town, and purchase a new duvet ready for Christmas visitors. Then we had lunch.

Then the writing. Oh the writing-ness of a Saturday afternoon in November. It is a thing of joy and delight when the words do flow. I had been hesitating with the later scenes, as I have mentioned, but the introduction of a couple of competent police officers with a fast car soon restored law and order, and we proceeded in a more orderly fashion to the next stage.

Sigoth dismantled the wardrobe in Moved-to-new-home Offspring’s former room so that I can turn it into an office. Today we aim to re-route the broadband, move the desk and devices upstairs and generally make it possible for me to log on to the office system tomorrow morning. What could possibly go wrong? It’s only technology. Oh, wait, that’s what could go wrong…

I interrupted my authorial endeavours to help transfer the wardrobe carcass and a small desk into the loft. We had tea, because that is what you do when you have had a successful afternoon, then I knocked out a few more words before dinner.

Enough is enough, people, do you want my fingers to bleed? I watched television. My former infatuation with Sarah Lund is rekindled. For the next few weeks, make sure you do not call while “The Killing” is on, unless you enjoy talking to answerphones.

I hope your weekend is productive, and / or joyful, and the words rain down like mercy from heaven upon the page beneath.

NaNoWriMo Day 16 – looking back in blankness

Day 16 was the day I wrote no novel words at all.

It was fine. I expected it. I had to leave home early to get to Leeds, travelled back late, then was out in the evening and had an Offspring turn up for a visit. These are all good things (even the work which means I get money every now and then to pay for my Internet connection and tea bags).

I barely even thought about the novel in fact. I just felt tired. I had planned to try a little writing on the train home, but the train was completely rammed. There were Friday evening body parts in your face all the way to York, after which just breathing was enough excitement.

The weekend looms ahead now with many tasks to accomplish but I remain optimistic. My main leisure activity will be watching “The Killing III” tonight. I’m a bit in love with Sarah Lund, as are a number of people I know. My reading glasses have arrived just in time to let me manage the sub-titles easily too, so it could not have been better if I had planned it.

I have the last few plot steps to finish in the story, and then it will about putting it into order, and working out where there are gaps. So I may be doing quite a lot of reading. With the reading glasses. Did I mention them? OK, sorry….but I’m really excited because I got one of those little cords to put on the frames as well so I can wear them round my neck. Honestly, I feel like I’ve won the Lottery or something. I would like to think it’s endearing, but it’s pretty daft!

Actually that image is not quite true as I have to wear the contact lens in my right eye until that is operated on. But what the hell, let’s look forwards, not backwards! There are two glasses cases because at minus 24, I have to wear glasses on top of my contact lenses….

It’s hard to write about murder and intrigue when I’m feeling like a firework display or glass of bubbly inside. I start to plan out what to write and my brain suddenly veers off and notices that the distance is fuzzy with the glasses on, and sharp with them off, which is, like, totally the opposite of normal! Or I become intrigued to read the small print in the TV Guide about what’s on, even though I have no intention of watching it. Or I spend five minutes positioning my glasses on my nose so I can look over the top of the frame.

I am definitely going to buy those half-moon style frames when I finally buy new glasses. I always wanted them when I was little because I wanted to be a Librarian.

Now I just want to be Dumbledore.

Friends, that’s the state of my brain today. I am not expecting great progress.

I hope your weekend is successful and your words fly onto the page.