Took Auntie to the airport today (on BART and Muni, with her Suitcase of Giganticness), and then returned to the Witchnest only to turn around again and go up to Ye Olde Former Day Jobbe and do freelance work for the rest of the day.
Upon returning home, long after dark, I found myself too exhausted to attempt to clean the Nest, and instead thought I’d tackle a chapter of Demonhead.
Which was going well, especially with all my new visual information about City Hall, until I came to the part where I have to rewrite the whole point of the scene, because what I’d stuck in there makes No Sense Whatsoever.
Whereupon I reheated leftovers that Auntie had made, et dinner, drank wine (musing on how much I will miss wine starting Monday, for two weeks, when I am on the South Beach Diet–because OH YES, I am so totally really going to do that, just you wait), talked to Jay, and am planning all the laundry and housecleaning for tomorrow.
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Because tomorrow another guest arrives–Mark is coming, and this place is a shambles. Yes, I do understand that I am really actually doing this for myself: that to anxiously and obsessively clean for a man who lives in a boarding house filled with college students is perhaps a bit foolish. But, that’s just me. Heck, I clean for Jay, whose toilet lids run away from his own house.
Displacement activity, anyone? But I do love a clean nest. So sue me.