Kage Baker (no, she’s not the reason – but I always start with that).
It’s 88 degrees and has been since 10:30 AM.
It never got below 70 last night, and I never got to sleep at all.
The cat ate my flan.
I just discovered I have my underwear on inside out.
I am filled with seething discontent and an inability to concentrate on anything.
The cat drank my coffee.
I spent the wakeful night working out story details – which I can’t remember now, and have been futilely trying to work out on paper all day.
There’s a humungous spider on the wall. It’s staring at me.
I need a theremin and an industrial-grade ruby, and I don’t have a theremin, and I can’t afford a kit until the tax return gets here.
Harry insists on singing in his “monster” voice, which is loud, raucous and distracting.
I miss Kage especially acutely today. I miss her with chest-aching, breath-catching, genuine pain. Sometimes it gets worse than others. Today is pretty bad.
It’s too hot to sleep. I’m too tired to sleep. And if I sleep now, I’ll be awake all night again tonight.
I have to go to the store.
I give up – I’m gonna go buy ice cream, and sit up on the couch and eat it, and watch Harry Potter movies.