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desperanceY'all know how little I like staying in and waiting for something to happen.
This afternoon I am staying in and waiting for repairpeople to come and fix the oven. Man shall not live by bread alone, but it still holds a significant place in my repertoire; I'm not sure what I am, if not a baker. And it's Karen's birthday tomorrow, and she wants roast chicken and sesame seed buns, inter alia. I could fake both in the grill, but I'd be anxious. You don't want to see me anxious. And I just want my oven back, soddit...
So, yeah. Waiting. Not very well. We are halfway through their window now. (Bizarrely, that sentence actually makes sense.) I am passing time by reading and commenting on stories for a competition, at four dollars a pop. I've earned twenty bucks today already, yay me.
Haven't actually written anything for days now, but, y'know. The words will still be there, though they shift with every tide; the story I don't write today will come out different tomorrow. Which is of course the real reason for the overcrowding of the multiverse: it's all my fault. So many alternate worlds springing into form at all those word-choices that I might have made, in the stories I might have written...
This afternoon I am staying in and waiting for repairpeople to come and fix the oven. Man shall not live by bread alone, but it still holds a significant place in my repertoire; I'm not sure what I am, if not a baker. And it's Karen's birthday tomorrow, and she wants roast chicken and sesame seed buns, inter alia. I could fake both in the grill, but I'd be anxious. You don't want to see me anxious. And I just want my oven back, soddit...
So, yeah. Waiting. Not very well. We are halfway through their window now. (Bizarrely, that sentence actually makes sense.) I am passing time by reading and commenting on stories for a competition, at four dollars a pop. I've earned twenty bucks today already, yay me.
Haven't actually written anything for days now, but, y'know. The words will still be there, though they shift with every tide; the story I don't write today will come out different tomorrow. Which is of course the real reason for the overcrowding of the multiverse: it's all my fault. So many alternate worlds springing into form at all those word-choices that I might have made, in the stories I might have written...