Baby steps
So I had all these plans for today - there were at least two, two marvellous plans, anyway - and they've all fallen by the wayside with the decision to start a journal instead. So fickle, me. My plans, because getting them in writing is practically the same as actually carrying them out, were to start work on the chaos in the garage, and to watch more Beautiful Life. I need to make sense of the garage so I can then disentangle the contents of our Cupboard (it's very large and deserves a capital letter) and take full advantage of the inorganic collection next weekend.
merknz and I made a bold start last night by trying to shift the 8-foot bookcase into a usable position in the garage; the result was a bookshelf shifted about a foot to the right, and swivelled slightly, though still on it's side, a semi-spronged back and the crippling (temporary??) of
merknz's shoulder. Honestly, it's bad enough I make him carry boxes of books around, now I get to break him in little pieces with my shelves as well? Evil ielfling and her library of PAIN... Now at least I have the excuse that the reclining bookshelf blocks me from actually reaching the rest of the stuff in the garage, so, sorry, so much for *that* plan.
The Beautiful Life plan may still eventuate, later tonight. There's something addictive about it; it's a jdorama about a brittle, feisty librarian and a moody hairdresser, and I think it's headed for a tragic end, but the acting is great and I'm really enjoying the characters. Terrible things keep happening, what with bitchy fellow hairdressers stealing his designs, and the way nobody seems to build ramps into Japanese restaurants (the librarian has an illness that has put her in a wheelchair). I can only take so much trauma at a time and have been stopping mid-episode, but it's like eating cake - you have too much, you put it aside, and then the cravings start again. If I didn't have Little Minkie around breaking my day up into baby-waking chunks, I'd probably watch the whole thing in one go. Speaking of which - she's making a variety of noises in the bedroom, none of which sound like 'I'm about to go to sleep', despite having a full morning touring both my own and
merknz's workplaces and running the gauntlet of clucky workmates. Oh yes, and now she's banging on the cot with both feet.
Whinged about my lack of creative output to
merknz last night, and he said (I may be paraphrasing): write your book. Write it badly, just get it down. I may try this. It made me feel hopeful at the time. I'd been fixating on writing the very start very well, which is always a road straight to paralysis - I already have about 10,000 words of bad writing on this story, so could keep on going in that vein, surely? And I just saw the Prestige, which made me all excitable about dark, broody men and showmanship. (Also, it's just a very nasty, fun movie.) Plus, Christian Bale - did I mention Christian Bale?
Heh, just went in to see Minkie and she's sucking her foot and singing like a budgie.
That's a shame - the lazy smilie isn't smiling. I'm feeling lazy but good. Happy-lazy.
merknz and I made a bold start last night by trying to shift the 8-foot bookcase into a usable position in the garage; the result was a bookshelf shifted about a foot to the right, and swivelled slightly, though still on it's side, a semi-spronged back and the crippling (temporary??) of
merknz's shoulder. Honestly, it's bad enough I make him carry boxes of books around, now I get to break him in little pieces with my shelves as well? Evil ielfling and her library of PAIN... Now at least I have the excuse that the reclining bookshelf blocks me from actually reaching the rest of the stuff in the garage, so, sorry, so much for *that* plan.
The Beautiful Life plan may still eventuate, later tonight. There's something addictive about it; it's a jdorama about a brittle, feisty librarian and a moody hairdresser, and I think it's headed for a tragic end, but the acting is great and I'm really enjoying the characters. Terrible things keep happening, what with bitchy fellow hairdressers stealing his designs, and the way nobody seems to build ramps into Japanese restaurants (the librarian has an illness that has put her in a wheelchair). I can only take so much trauma at a time and have been stopping mid-episode, but it's like eating cake - you have too much, you put it aside, and then the cravings start again. If I didn't have Little Minkie around breaking my day up into baby-waking chunks, I'd probably watch the whole thing in one go. Speaking of which - she's making a variety of noises in the bedroom, none of which sound like 'I'm about to go to sleep', despite having a full morning touring both my own and
merknz's workplaces and running the gauntlet of clucky workmates. Oh yes, and now she's banging on the cot with both feet.
Whinged about my lack of creative output to
merknz last night, and he said (I may be paraphrasing): write your book. Write it badly, just get it down. I may try this. It made me feel hopeful at the time. I'd been fixating on writing the very start very well, which is always a road straight to paralysis - I already have about 10,000 words of bad writing on this story, so could keep on going in that vein, surely? And I just saw the Prestige, which made me all excitable about dark, broody men and showmanship. (Also, it's just a very nasty, fun movie.) Plus, Christian Bale - did I mention Christian Bale?
Heh, just went in to see Minkie and she's sucking her foot and singing like a budgie.
That's a shame - the lazy smilie isn't smiling. I'm feeling lazy but good. Happy-lazy.