Saturday, November 28, 2009

This is what my Saturday looks like.

Me, three cats and a cocker spaniel, camped out on the couch housesitting while Darwin brings home the bacon.

Case of Coke Zero (which college rooommate/Child Genius used to refer to as "liquid intelligence") on my left. stacks of caselaw on e-discovery on my right, warm fuzzy blanket in the middle. The Idiot Cat hunting squirrels through the window in the background.

Later, there may be tacos. There are worse ways to toil away, I think.

Writing like the wind. 40 pages by Sunday night? No problem. Current count (11am): 4...but they're a good four.


Virgin In The Volcano said...

If you can go from 4 to 40 pages in 36 hours, I will forever bow to you.

All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson