Thursday,
January 8, 2004
The weekend looms, taunting me with its promise
Mainly a promise of having a bottom I can sit upon comfortably. Yeah, things seem to be going back to normal, although I'm still on the liquid diet for another day. Oh, well -- at least I know what's in store for me when I'm 95 and sucking back gruel at the old folk's home.
The enforced time away from the computer's really charged my writing engines, though, so I'm going back to PHARAOH with a vengeance come lunchtime tomorrow, and I want to try and get a couple of short stories knocked out over the weekend, stuff that's been floating around in my head for awhile. Hell, I need to get my ass in gear and start improving the numbers on my sidebar, right? Of course right.
Lessee, what else is trundling along in the Fletcher manse? The cats are insane as usual -- what with me sleeping on the couch for the last couple of nights because I could prop my butt up on cushions, they've become spoiled little monsters who've gotten used to curling up on me and snoozing happily. There are going to be some unhappy felines in the house tonight, though -- I'm sleeping in my own bed, and they are staying on the other side of the door.
Although I have
to admit, Jordan is cute as the dickens, fast asleep in his cat bed next to
my desk. Speaking of which, that sounds like a mighty fine idea. Night, folks.