Writing and writing and writing and writing and writing and writing continues.
I had this fantasy that when we finally got home, we would be able to…I don’t know? Have some leisure time and see friends and stuff? I am missing my friends. I am missing so many of my friends.
Well maybe I am protesting too much, because we did see a few friends over the weekend…but they were Friends From Away. I guess I sort of had the fantasy that we would see PORTLAND friends when we, you know, returned to Portland.
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I’m not really as cranky as I sound. I’m just…tired, and working too hard. And it’s HOT, which is awesome, but is also…hot. The weather is not doing anything in half-measures; it’s all, RAIN RAIN RAIN RAIN RAIN OH WAIT, 90 DEGREES HAHA YOUR GARDEN DIES!
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I was actually supposed to see a friend today, but she spaced, and I couldn’t get hold of her, and so instead I wrote. And wrote. And wrote. And then she called at dinnertime, mortified that she’d missed her one tiny window of seeing me…but that’s not true! We are home now, we can reschedule! But I feel bad. She is not entirely making that up. I am spread too thin. This is not how it’s supposed to be.
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Thank you for listening to my angst. This angst has been brought to you by 97% Done With A Novel Which Is Already Late And May Be Published Later Than Announced. There is no cause for alarm. Carry on with your lives…