I need to simultaneously write my blog and be in the shower, and I think that this is just another failure of technology. That should be possible.
Although I’m pretty sure it would vastly expand the ways in which I could hurt myself, but still, progress is progress.
Thanksgiving is two days away and people are busily prepping. We no longer make dinner; it was a change I suggest a few years ago and every single year I love it more.
This year I’ve added a complication in that I’m baking a dessert. Of course there is the slightest chance that I’ll see something at the store and say, HMM, and save myself the time of that, but baking can be fun, I’ve discovered.
Rather than braving the grocery store tomorrow, I think today will be better. I hope today will be better.
Anyway, since I’ve got to do these things serially rather than simultaneously, I’ve used up my time for this part. Have a great Tuesday.
Sorry. She just won’t let “I” pass without getting her due. Aunty Ida, that is.
Who is Aunty Ida, you ask conveniently hypothetical reader? Why she’s a brilliant scientist slightly more, um, well, enthusiastic than she should be.
Don’t tell her I said that.
Her bad side is a place you do not want to be. For sure.
While fictional, I’m not sure Aunty Ida is entirely fictional. Sometimes I feel as though she’s out there, somewhere, in a parallel somewhere or another, dictating her stories to me through the distance of space and time and reality.
If anyone could, she could.
For the writers among us, do you have characters like Ida? Ones who boss you, who tell you what’s what? Who demand your attention and their spotlight on the page?