I won’t do two cranky posts in two days, so I won’t even tell you about how I came home and rushed a load of laundry in (because everything was sweat-soaked from Portland FOR SOME REASON) and then went down and put it all in the drier and put four quarters in and pushed the button and nothing happened and I pushed all the other buttons and nothing continued to happen and I pushed the coin return button and still nothing happened so I came back upstairs and got a piece of paper and went back downstairs and wrote down the number and came back upstairs and called the company and went back downstairs and got the equipment number off the drier and came back upstairs and listened to them explain to me that it was after hours (at TEN TILL FIVE) and that somebody would come by in EIGHTEEN BUSINESS HOURS I mean WTF?? and they would refund my dollar and I’m trying to explain how four quarters is FAR more valuable than a stupid dollar and meanwhile what do I do with all this wet laundry? and she says she can’t help me and I call the property management company and they can’t help me either and then I lump my sopping wet clothes back upstairs and hang them all in my bathroom over the shower-curtain-hanging-thingee. Nope. I won’t tell you any of that, because that would be cranky.
Instead I’ll proudly report on 1,000 words of fiction written today (and not gripe about how it would have been more if I hadn’t been CRANKY and HANGING UP LAUNDRY IN MY BATHROOM) and give you a nice WIP bit, before I head off to Zombie Club and general hilarity.
Enjoy!
WIP (from yesterday’s work–so sue me!):
“Yes, please–just a half glass tonight.” Sian felt that she could drink the whole jug, and therefore determined to go lightly. Long past were the years when she could drink freely and awaken the following morning headache-free, and with a settled and enthusiastic stomach.
But the wine was cool and satisfyingly bitter on her tongue, and accompanied the food as if they had sprung from the same divine intelligence. Furthermore, the evening was still hot–the marine layer of fog was staying away from the shores of Little Loom Eyot, and had been for days now–so Sian allowed Bela to refill her glass before she retired for the night.