it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken

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so when you come to burn my effigy it should keep the flies away

There. That's 1200 words of essay down, despite scrubbing the kitchen floor and making pancakes and starting bread in a desperate bout of displacement behavior. I'm just making tea, and then I will cowboy up and open the damned bloody miserable TSTM file and start work on it.

Looks like there's a pub date for Chill, for everybody who has been patiently waiting for one. It looks like the MMPB drops on 29 December of 2009, if Amazon has its shoes on. If I get any galleys, there may be an auction to benefit Some Worthy Cause.

I have invited the dog up on the sofa because my feet were cold. He was so excited and happy and wracked with disbelief at his good fortune that he could not actually jump up for thirty seconds; he just had to stand there and wag his whole body.

Also, because he grew up in Florida and is thusly a total sissy about cold, despite the eight inches of hair covering his entire body, I threw my lap robe over him, too. Now he's lying on my feet, sighing with large doggy contentment... nope, spoke too soon. He must have passed out with delight, because he just got 30% heavier.


(My mom came to visit over the weekend, and while he was happy to see her--and [eventually] even more happy to see the tiny little nondominant girl dog she brought along so we could work on his PTSD issues--he was very definite that he wanted to stay here, please, and not go home with her. Yes, he's already spoiled rotten.)

((Also, he likes cara cara oranges, but he won't eat canteloupe or watermelon.))

(((The cat is upstairs, tucked under my feather comforter and refusing to come out.)))
Tags: giant ridiculous dog, jacob's ladder, the writer at work

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