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[personal profile] desperance
Heh. Last night, Karen and I finally agreed what we think is the right selection of my stories in the right order for a collection due from Lethe Press. Some have been recovered from old files, some have been scanned and OCR'd; they all need reading through and checking over, tidying up. This morning - feeling that it was high time I got back to work again, despite still feeling a little out of sorts and nursing a cryptocough - I worked through the first of those stories, and then felt energised enough to do something else; so I put the laptop in the bag, and the scribbled-on hard copy of Kipling-on-Mars, and made a flask of coffee, and cycled down to the library withal.

And then immediately cycled home again, regarding the outing as simple healthful exercise: for - not for the first time - I had forgotten to put my bike-locks in the bag. Hey-ho. And it's quite chilly out there despite the sun, and that's the furthest I've been on the bike since I got home, and that koff is still lurking in my chest somewhere, and - so no, what with one thing and another, I didn't pick up the locks and head straight out again.

Kipling can do another round in orbit, waiting; I'll keep working on the stories, in so far as I do any more work. I have cats to fuss, Chalet School books to read (as it traditional, when I'm sick), yogis to feed tonight. A sofa to lie on, wanly. That may be enough.
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desperance

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