I have spent the past two days HIDING from an email in my inbox. Even leaving my inbox open, with the little "Inbox (1) - [meatspace name@...]" tab sitting there at the top of the page, taunting me. It was interview question responses for work. I don't know WHY it was making me anxious to think about reading it, but lordy, it was.
I just opened it. The responses are fine. My interviewee made a request about how I use the data that is kind of a bummer (leads to no immediate CV line for me), but is totally within hir rights, and the long term potential for the data is still there. See, self? Nothing to be scared of!
Sigh. Oh, brains.
I honestly don't know if my Yuletide story is done. There's one scene from the outline not completed. I have no idea what goes in that scene. (Well, I know what goes in it *structurally.* I have no idea what the content is.) I can't tell if it's necessary. Sigh. I hate this stage of writing.
SCENE: Amal is sitting in the TV room, charging her phone and poking it.
Leigh enters from the living room, shuffling in wearing the bathrobe she is wearing around the house because it's cold, and which she has started referring to as her "dressing gown" because she thinks it sounds more civilized to wear a dressing gown around the house. (It is the bathrobe from this picture
. It is not a dressing gown.)
Leigh: How come you didn't tell me we were moving into the den?
Amal: I said, "Oh, I have to go charge my phone," stood up, picked up my phone and computer, and left the room. Ten minutes ago.
Leigh: Really? I thought you were just going to the bathroom.
Amal: *narrows her eyes* I was in Dublin
Leigh: Shut up.
Isk wrote a recipe today.A Surprise Cake Funny
One Killed Cow
One Live Chicken
A Piece of Paper
One Killed Chicken
Directions: EAT IT.
My boy. I'm so...proud?