It's 56 degrees in the house this morning, and 11 degrees outside (and falling.) The dog has decided that monkeys and blankets are warm, and can he help work now?
This is the view from my futon chair in the corner of the library, through the dog ears into the living room. The futon sofa across the way is another habitual writing perch. (And dog nest, as you can tell from the abandoned stuffie.)
Yes, the GRD is using my right foot as a pillow.
This is how portions of many books are written. Portions are also written from under the cat.
Tea today: Pai Mu Tan white vanilla from Upton.
Teamug today: cat in file drawer.
This morning the washing machine exploded. 0.0 Okay, really, the drain pipe came loose, flooding the pantry and a corner of the kitchen. While I was doing my morning yoga. Mmm, restful. Fortunately, I got to it pretty fast and turned it off, and even more fortunately it was the final spin cycle, so the water was clean. Well, I needed to mop the floor today anyway.
Landlord has been called, and hopefully will pick up his messages.
ETA: Drain pipe froze in crawlspace. Spaceheater applied, should be usable by tonight. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is that cold out there.
And so I am starting work a little later than intended.
Today's work is finishing The White City--a final polishing draft. Then I have one more book to read for my Realms of Fantasy column, and I need to write that and maybe my review for the next issue of Ideomancer, and of course more work to do on "The Unicorn Evils." Which is really nearly complete--it's just getting the last five or seven puzzle pieces in.