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A happy birthday to me
Jan. 4th, 2008 04:04 pmEvery good birthday starts with a cuddle. In my case, it came from Mac and was (I suspect) driven more by a chilly morning than a sudden affection; but he snuck under the duvet, curled up within the ambit of my arm and purred at me until he fell asleep, which was kinda lovely. And it meant Baz got an extra hour undisturbed, doing his best imitation of a black hole: globular and dense and gravitic, right in the centre of the bed so that, like light, I have to bend around him.
Then a little work, then into town for work and shopping, these both being suitable birthday amusements. I came home with large amounts of bread and chocolate, which pretty much covers the food groups, at least according to Mac. Myself, of course, I would add alcohol - but that of course I have already.
And now? Now I get to spend the afternoon cooking (a little) and cleaning (a lot). Which is the wrong way round, but hey. This evening, if I make it that far, there's a party. Not my own! Mine's not till Sunday. Which is why I have to start cooking and cleaning right now, or preferably forty-eight hours ago.
In other news: reading through this novel I'm revising, I found that I have two completely different openings to the same chapter. What was I thinking? I never do this! And - of course! - I like bits of one and bits of the other, and they are entirely incompatible. Sigh. I foresee a third version upcoming, which I shall have to write from scratch...
I'm about halfway through the revision now, and I don't think I've cut enough - but I can't massacre all my darlings at once. There will be later passes. In the meantime - well, I went through extraordinary contortions this morning just to hang onto this:
She couldn't call him a coward afraid of his mother, or too lazy to stand up to his generals; but she could think it, and she could let him understand that she thought it, even while she stepped with ostentatious care from word to lily-pad word above the darker waters of her thoughts.
It'll probably have to go next time through, but right now I like it, and it's my birthday, and I wants it. Precious.
Then a little work, then into town for work and shopping, these both being suitable birthday amusements. I came home with large amounts of bread and chocolate, which pretty much covers the food groups, at least according to Mac. Myself, of course, I would add alcohol - but that of course I have already.
And now? Now I get to spend the afternoon cooking (a little) and cleaning (a lot). Which is the wrong way round, but hey. This evening, if I make it that far, there's a party. Not my own! Mine's not till Sunday. Which is why I have to start cooking and cleaning right now, or preferably forty-eight hours ago.
In other news: reading through this novel I'm revising, I found that I have two completely different openings to the same chapter. What was I thinking? I never do this! And - of course! - I like bits of one and bits of the other, and they are entirely incompatible. Sigh. I foresee a third version upcoming, which I shall have to write from scratch...
I'm about halfway through the revision now, and I don't think I've cut enough - but I can't massacre all my darlings at once. There will be later passes. In the meantime - well, I went through extraordinary contortions this morning just to hang onto this:
She couldn't call him a coward afraid of his mother, or too lazy to stand up to his generals; but she could think it, and she could let him understand that she thought it, even while she stepped with ostentatious care from word to lily-pad word above the darker waters of her thoughts.
It'll probably have to go next time through, but right now I like it, and it's my birthday, and I wants it. Precious.