Writing Wednesday
Nov. 26th, 2003 12:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
same_skyI just hit the 42k mark this evening. I'm a tad behind, yes, but not very much at all, and I'm still headed in the right direction, so I feel pretty confident that I'll make it on time. I'd love to finish it today, but I don't see myself as the marathon writer sort. :) I've thrown out 2645 painful words today, and while I might write more tonight, I don't think I'll write another 7,903, which is what I need to finish right now. It's pretty cool, because on the fourth day of the month, I had written 7,904. How's that for symmetry? Of course, that might not be the end tally for the day, but it works right now. :) I brought my natural keyboard to the living room today, and it's going much better. I'll be glad to be done, though.
So that's pretty much what I've been doing most of the day, in between keeping up with the zine. I tried to be a little less distracted today, though, because I'm bored with Nano now and want to be done with it. We're going to have to go to WalMart or something tonight, because I can't face the idea of going on Friday. I've checked the paper and there's nothing that I can't live without being featured on sale. I do want to buy a certain someone a fondue pot for $5 but my mom might be going. I wonder if everyone's husband pesters them for fondue pots all the time? No? It's just me? Ahh, well.
I've always pretended to worry that my darling husband is gay. I don't actually think he is, for many reasons, including the way he still occasionally loses track of what I'm saying when he notices my cleavage. I like to tease him about it, though. Let's examine the facts. He dresses well. Very well. He thinks he's slobby now, but he hardly ever goes out in a t-shirt. He used to wear black pants and a jacket when he was out doing the grocery shopping, but I broke him of that. He can color-coordinate, and he irons more than I do. He willingly communicates with me--we have deep talks about our relationship at least twice a month. He dabbles in cross-stitch and he has a more than passing fancy to pickle his own garden vegetables. He shuns long fishing trips with the boys and he gossips with the girls. He would rather watch a romantic comedy than a single game of football. He likes sun-ripened raspberry body wash and jasmine-scented shampoo. He's actually aware of what I'm writing right now and he's not only letting me do it, but he's helping me think of examples to use. In short, I'm used to his flagrant lack of interest in certain typically masculine pursuits, but this sudden fixation with fondue pots is more than I can comprehend.
Anyway, I guess we need to get going. There is strawberry shortcake with my name on it waiting, and I'd like to get the shopping done before it gets too late. Four day weekend for my gay husband--yay!
So that's pretty much what I've been doing most of the day, in between keeping up with the zine. I tried to be a little less distracted today, though, because I'm bored with Nano now and want to be done with it. We're going to have to go to WalMart or something tonight, because I can't face the idea of going on Friday. I've checked the paper and there's nothing that I can't live without being featured on sale. I do want to buy a certain someone a fondue pot for $5 but my mom might be going. I wonder if everyone's husband pesters them for fondue pots all the time? No? It's just me? Ahh, well.
I've always pretended to worry that my darling husband is gay. I don't actually think he is, for many reasons, including the way he still occasionally loses track of what I'm saying when he notices my cleavage. I like to tease him about it, though. Let's examine the facts. He dresses well. Very well. He thinks he's slobby now, but he hardly ever goes out in a t-shirt. He used to wear black pants and a jacket when he was out doing the grocery shopping, but I broke him of that. He can color-coordinate, and he irons more than I do. He willingly communicates with me--we have deep talks about our relationship at least twice a month. He dabbles in cross-stitch and he has a more than passing fancy to pickle his own garden vegetables. He shuns long fishing trips with the boys and he gossips with the girls. He would rather watch a romantic comedy than a single game of football. He likes sun-ripened raspberry body wash and jasmine-scented shampoo. He's actually aware of what I'm writing right now and he's not only letting me do it, but he's helping me think of examples to use. In short, I'm used to his flagrant lack of interest in certain typically masculine pursuits, but this sudden fixation with fondue pots is more than I can comprehend.
Anyway, I guess we need to get going. There is strawberry shortcake with my name on it waiting, and I'd like to get the shopping done before it gets too late. Four day weekend for my gay husband--yay!
