Even though I doubt I'm going to London for this packing job, it kept popping up and demanding attention, today. Apparently the gentleman whose books I'll be packing is being a typical book person and wanting a hundred times more information than he needs about every step of the process of shipping. Usually I think people like this are just not happy about letting their books go, so I always emphasize they're going to a good home. Because the truth is, books are like children to real book people. But this doesn't feel that way. More like he's one of those peope who doesn't think anyone is as good at anything as he is.
I have the book person attitude in Adam, in A65. And I tried to work on it, but even though I's supposedly off, today, I never could focus on it thanks to the London crap.
Another job also interfered, as did other aspects of the job...an life. I may as well have gone into the office.
So...I'm not getting it done, this month. The first draft of a novelization of "The Alice '65", I mean. I've got just 28K in wordage and only 9...no, eight days to complete the challenge. And I burned my dinner. And now I'm fighting off a headache. It's irritating. I just want to go to sleep.
Happy Thanksgiving. I'm having fucking tuna.
I have the book person attitude in Adam, in A65. And I tried to work on it, but even though I's supposedly off, today, I never could focus on it thanks to the London crap.
Another job also interfered, as did other aspects of the job...an life. I may as well have gone into the office.
So...I'm not getting it done, this month. The first draft of a novelization of "The Alice '65", I mean. I've got just 28K in wordage and only 9...no, eight days to complete the challenge. And I burned my dinner. And now I'm fighting off a headache. It's irritating. I just want to go to sleep.
Happy Thanksgiving. I'm having fucking tuna.
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