Jul. 3rd, 2014

desperance: (Default)
There was a time when "Finish Kipling on Mars" was all the to-do list that I had, and that was too much.

Now, of course, I pine for such simplicity of purpose, such an achievable failure.

Right now my required-writing list includes but is not limited to:

Finish Kipling on Mars
Finish The Ice Weasels of Trebizond (with wife)
Write BT piece, instanter
Do editing job for Lethe, also instanter

- and today almost all of that is in abeyance, because tomorrow all of it will be, because tomorrow I will be 55.5 and we will mark the occasion of my demi-birthday in consort with the whole of America. So today my to-do list is mostly along the lines of clean kitchen, cook in kitchen, clean kitchen again and like that. With added shopping*.


*It has only just struck me: here in the US, we call them stores, not shops. We go to the store, not to the shop. But we do not go storing. It's like gardening: we work in the yard, not the garden, but we do not do yarding.

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