Print out copy of newest book. Realize that printer drum is failing. Research drums and realize that a new drum is $168, whereas a brand new machine is $248. Realize foolishness of buying new drum and want new printer immediately. Of course, it’s too late for this to happen, and ponder why I can’t get things I want immediately, via the elusive instant gratification fairy.
Begin going through hardcopy to polish and flesh it out a bit. Add a nice scene involving astrological signs. Realilze I need information on astrological signs, and remember the books I bought for this very purpose. Go upstairs into office and cannot find hide nor hair of those books and realize they must’ve gone the way of my Swahili copy of The Merchant of Venice during the move. Find the book the husband had been looking for (bio of Ben Franklin) and then run hand lovingly over keeper shelf of Blazes. Think about pulling down the Karen Anders one I reread a lot about the bounty hunter and stop self. Bad, Steph, bad. Must write.
Go back downstairs and realize that I still do not have the information I need. Go on the internet, find info. Come to WP site and blog. Think about site changes I need to do and wish Bekke could just pull them telepathically from my mind. Wonder why Larissa’s deserted me for two days (some flimsy excuse about family visiting – really, where are her priorities? I need to whine…) and then realize that I must get back into book.
Realize there is so much more to tell, since I have been MIA. For instance, I think the ghost mouse really is a ghost at this point. Donâ€™t tell Larissa â€“ I think she expected me to adopt it.
Also, I went to a big headache center in my area. I think I could live there. Everyone speaks quietly, the lights are soft and low and no one wears heavy perfume. Best of all, I love my new doctor. I loved him even more after he asked me what I wrote. When I told him romance, he said, is it spicy? And the way he said it was just so normal â€“ not creepy or full of innuendo. Just cool. And when I said, very, he said, I want to read it. I know it may not sound so cool, but if you were there (which you weren’t) it would’ve been. And I discovered that the meds I take are whatâ€™s referred to as rescue meds. Pretty appropriate, I think. Like Navy SEALs in pill form. Also, they make you take a personality test there, and I was sitting in a dark room filling out the form all by myself and laughing hystercially, because the questions were like this (all true / false):
* If you were an artist, would you paint flowers?
* Do you think there are people who are out to get you?
* Would you say that you are generally a happy person?
* Do you feel that there are people out there trying to control your mind?
I mean, seriously, I wanted to answer yes to that last one, because it was the truth, but I don’t think they’d understand about Jake. Of course, interspersed with those questions were ones that asked, do you ever feel like stabbing anyone, and I began to think that maybe I do not want to live at the headache center if these are the types of people who come in here.
And no, for the record, I am not on any medicine tonight, which probably makes this blog post all the more frightening.
So that’s where I am – looking for Navy SEAL meds and the instant gratification fairy. And my astrology books.