A blog-free day ... almost.
I was occupied with other writing. And cleaning the bathroom. I may have commented earlier that I am no stranger to squalor but the bathroom was getting beyond even my rather flexible level of tolerance. Now it's gleaming—so clean that you could eat your dinner off any surface (If I let you, which I wouldn't because you'd just mess it up again. So don't make the suggestion. It will end in tears.)
Apart from getting a numb posterior from sitting in front of the computer for one half the day and then getting dishpan hands from scrubbing the floors for the other half, I haven't really done much.
Well, I knocked off another 1000 words from draft four or five or whatever it is now. So that's something, I suppose. I'll polish those thousand for an hour or so until the words gleam like the tiles of the splashback. Then I'll go to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream of a way out of the next scene.
Tomorrow I'm going to blog on Lasiopetalum, a plant genus that everyone should have in the garden. I was admiring my collection today (while trying to avoid writing and/or cleaning) but I didn't get around to taking photographs.
'night, all.
