Sheer exhaustion sent me to bed around 10pm last night, and consequently sheer wakefulness got me up around 6:30 this morning.
This combination, plus a bit of sheer bloody-mindedness, got me 8K today. I have another hour, technically, before my writing day is officially over, but my brain was already wearing out 1200 words ago, so I think I’m going to just take my 8K and go home. Or something. Even though I feel vaguely guilty about not writing until 7pm, which is my end-time. Stupid brain.
Various bits: when we went into SubCity (the Dublin comic shop we particularly like) on Friday, it was to discover the guy who isn’t Rob who works there blasting Dire Straits’s “Romeo & Juliet” and dancing around behind the counter singing at the top of his lungs. It was awesome. I sang too. Best Dire Straits song evah.
At the end of P-Con Frank gave me two awesome presents: one is a Princess Doll Maker, because a few months ago on Facebook somebody had a birthday and was a princess! for it, and I said I wanted to be a princess too! and so Frank’s been calling me princess, and now I’ve got a little princess doll making kit that I’m totally looking forward to making a princess doll with. :)
He also gave me a phoenix egg, guaranteed to hatch sometime in the next 500 years. It’s sitting on my desk, under the lamp where it will keep warm, and in a teddy bear’s lap so when the lamp is off the warm fuzzy bear will keep it warm.
Also, Sunday evening I was standing around with Maura McHugh and, uh, Sarah Brennan, whose LJ I can’t find right now, who are both 6′ or very nearly or slightly more in height, and it was a very rare occasion when I felt /short/ standing around with women. Because I’m not short: I’m 5′8″, or close enough for government work, and it’s quite startling to realize the women you’re standing with are towering over you!
…I have got craploads of emails to answer, and am absolutely 110% out of give-a-shit right now. Maybe after dinner.
ytd wordcount: 138,000
miles to Minas Tirith: 241.9