Seven pages a day (?)

[desperance]

Pages: eight. I still haven't decided if I'm really going on with this till the book eventually ends, which would need more than another week and I am weary already; but while the pages are there, I will grab them. Even though they're crap.

Also, I have a cold, I think. My throat is rough and everything smells unpleasant; I may not have pages at all much longer.

In the circs, I'm glad that all three of us agreed not to go out tonight on account of it's horrid and cold and wet out there. Staying in feels like a much better idea. I can watch televisions. Oh, yes...

[But do I dare move? Not that I'm being sat on, but Mac is sprawled in front of the gas-fire toasting his tummy, while Baz is hunched on the desk beneath the sun-lamp, and both of these will be turned off if I go downstairs. Cats will boo at me...]

Comments

[mizkit.livejournal.com]

Cats cannot actually boo. Go downstairs. It's okay. :)