Box and Cox

[desperance]

I am not convinced that hot-bunking is the way to write a novel. Two novels. But two days ago, I was working on Mars Imperial, the YA; yesterday I was surprised to find myself working on Mars Imperial, the Wimsey fanfic; today I'm not really that surprised to find myself reading through the Wimsey and going back to the YA. I suppose one could keep going this way, turn and turn about, but it sounds odd to me, and so unlike the home life of our own dear Chaz. I like one thing at a time and uncomplications.

Anyway, it's only midday but I have to go off now for more endless extraordinary dental adventures, with -odontists of numerous hues. It is not impossible that when we get home again, I may not want to work.

Or the other thing, of course. That's possible too.