he doesn't build ships; he has no use for sails
ajjghergthjrt NaNo. If I could have a permanent status taped to my forehead (and I could, too, but I'd look a bit silly and tape's sort of itchy), it would, roughly, be that. But: I reached today's goal of 5,000 words (and then a little more!) before midnight, and this was very good, even if I had to put poor Mr Caruthers' life in shambles (again) to do it, and have the government nonchalantly dismantle Evangeline's. (Poor Mr Caruthers! He is probably going to sleep in the office again; he may have considered going "home" to his flat, until he realised that he hasn't actually slept there in nearly a week, and all of his things -- read: books, food, pens, sword cane -- are in the office anyway, and there isn't a pallet in the corner for nothing. So he's probably putting Morrissey on the Victrola right now and feeling just terrible.) Now, part of this may have had something to do with the fact that my internet has been fizzling out much of the day. Um. But still. So I wandered downstairs and was horrified to discover that there was nothing delicious with which to celebrate -- not even crackers to put cheese on, much less anything made of chocolate. So, after some moaning and woe-is-me-ing and hunting for the appropriate cookbook (and not finding it so having to hunt down the recipe on the internet), I made chocolate buttermilk chocolate chip peppermint cookies.* Which... I imagine can be used to good effect in regards to tomorrow's writing.
* Something I really appreciate about my parents is that they don't make a fuss when I do something odd, unless it is really irritating or potentially deadly. So: I am in the kitchen making cookies after midnight. My parents' reaction is largely along the lines of "yay cookies!", which is really lovely of them. Not that they have much room to frown upon eccentricity, being, um, them, but I really hate being asked why I'm doing things and what for and when I'll be finished and all this nonsense when I feel that I'm doing something generally usual and... there's a reason I never liked youth group much.
While I was baking I put on Florence + the Machine and rocked out the kitchen. I dare you to listen to Florence + the Machine whilst doing chores or homework. They (...she?) make every task into your own personal epic. I cannot believe it took me so long to give her (...them?) a go. (Well, yes I can. When music gets really popular and hyped and whatnot, my brain tends to filter it out completely on the grounds that "I'll hear it eventually, I'm sure". Sometimes, it is also snobby about it, but mostly it's just really nonchalant. And then I trip into a bandwagon months or years after it got rolling, wave my arms around, and gibber delightedly whilst the hipsters stare at me in embarrassed consternation. Case in point: it took me three years to listen to Arcade Fire. Despite having "My Body Is A Cage" on repeat for much of that time. And then I couldn't stop listening. Oh dear.)
I seem to have chocolate in my hair. Curses.
Still have actual Very Important Things to reply to and/or comment on! *hides face in shame* Self, when you are procrastinating from writing, you should do something slightly productive instead. (Well, I did post the Unthanks and Ruth Notman on musicyardsale. Go have a look!) Also I think the cookies are mostly cool now and I should go to bed at a mildly reasonable hour (edit: HA HA WHAT), because Sunshine is all lonely there on my pillow, and my actual library books are beginning to get tense and jealous because I haven't even started them yet. (Also, gailcarriger's Soulless and Wrede & Stevermeyer's Sorcery and Cecelia are en route to me now, huzzah! Packages with books inside are my very favourite kind. Mysterious anonymous Amazon gift cards which enable the purchase of said books are not half bad in themselves.)
* Something I really appreciate about my parents is that they don't make a fuss when I do something odd, unless it is really irritating or potentially deadly. So: I am in the kitchen making cookies after midnight. My parents' reaction is largely along the lines of "yay cookies!", which is really lovely of them. Not that they have much room to frown upon eccentricity, being, um, them, but I really hate being asked why I'm doing things and what for and when I'll be finished and all this nonsense when I feel that I'm doing something generally usual and... there's a reason I never liked youth group much.
While I was baking I put on Florence + the Machine and rocked out the kitchen. I dare you to listen to Florence + the Machine whilst doing chores or homework. They (...she?) make every task into your own personal epic. I cannot believe it took me so long to give her (...them?) a go. (Well, yes I can. When music gets really popular and hyped and whatnot, my brain tends to filter it out completely on the grounds that "I'll hear it eventually, I'm sure". Sometimes, it is also snobby about it, but mostly it's just really nonchalant. And then I trip into a bandwagon months or years after it got rolling, wave my arms around, and gibber delightedly whilst the hipsters stare at me in embarrassed consternation. Case in point: it took me three years to listen to Arcade Fire. Despite having "My Body Is A Cage" on repeat for much of that time. And then I couldn't stop listening. Oh dear.)
I seem to have chocolate in my hair. Curses.
Still have actual Very Important Things to reply to and/or comment on! *hides face in shame* Self, when you are procrastinating from writing, you should do something slightly productive instead. (Well, I did post the Unthanks and Ruth Notman on musicyardsale. Go have a look!) Also I think the cookies are mostly cool now and I should go to bed at a mildly reasonable hour (edit: HA HA WHAT), because Sunshine is all lonely there on my pillow, and my actual library books are beginning to get tense and jealous because I haven't even started them yet. (Also, gailcarriger's Soulless and Wrede & Stevermeyer's Sorcery and Cecelia are en route to me now, huzzah! Packages with books inside are my very favourite kind. Mysterious anonymous Amazon gift cards which enable the purchase of said books are not half bad in themselves.)