A blurry cellphone photo of my kitchen table this morning.
That almost looks intentional, doesn"t it? Also, I really need to do something with those lemons.
The gentleman from the management company is here regrouting my shower (YAY!) and I saw the first robin of spring yesterday. Also, hasenpfeffer for dinner (poor bunny! it was a giant bunny, too--it fed three, with enough leftovers that we could have fed two more.)
Today's project is to revise my Sub Press column and send it in. And practice guitar, once I have the apartment to myself and will not be brutalizing an innocent bystander. I did my homework, though (and it actually made sense, though I kept having to force myself to be more meticulous than I normally am.).
As a result, I have decided I need a math icon, but I'm looking for the proper text. I know the image I want* (because Spencer!Cam is love) but the clever wording has not yet come to me.
Never fear. It will.
And then I think I'll read the rest of Her Majesty's Spymaster (I need to polish off that and The Double Life of Doctor Lopez before I start revising the books formerly known as The Stratford Man, and I'm expecting that edit letter in mid-to-late April) and after that, who knows?
377.5 miles to Rivendell. It's day 4, and I'm on the path in the Forest. If I am mighty, I might get to meet Tom Bombadil before the week is out. But not today, because I lifted yesterday for the first time since before Boskone, and man, and I sore like a sore thing, man.
*okay, he's working on a book code there, not a math problem, but that's what poetic license is for.