It’s sunny, but the leaves are hitting the ground. I ordered some additional bad-weather boots and I’m preparing myself.
Winter is coming.
It always does. Meanwhile, this year, the very year I’d swear only just started, is breezing by. Breezing is the wrong word.
It’s squealing by like a rusty merry-go-round with crumbling, reluctant gears. But it still moves faster than you think it should.
I’m leaning toward no NaNoWriMo this time, the idea of greeting November without the pressure sounds much better to me, more enticing than the fun of getting it done.
But we’re not at November yet. Almost.
But not yet.
I’ve miles and miles of editing to go, as I’m only taking my first run though, so I should get to that. Have a marvelous Monday.