Work today was as dead as it was insane yesterday, and more baggers than cashiers had been scheduled, so Himself went down the row asking everyone if they were interested in taking a half-day. He kept getting turned down, till he came to me: I felt a little bewildered yesterday, when I came back to find the place utterly mobbed, so accepted the offer.
So in the meantime, I'm getting some writing done -- and I mean actually writing longhand, just because I haven't done it in a while. I miss the feel of a pencil scratching over a piece of paper. There's something so visceral about it. Granted, it's quicker typing something up, and I've started doing this for my non-original/fannish works, but I miss writing so much that I need this exercise, regardless of how it adds to the amount of time I put into it.
And my frill dragon grew up, while my geode and V-day eggs are still being stubborn...
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