Schedule a little thrown off by killing a few hours this morning between barn and meeting Husband at car dealer. (This Week's Lesson: Nissans even suckier than Fords.) Spent the time scribbling away at Starbux, netting seven long-hand pages, roughly 180 words per page, inventing two new characters who are supporting players in 2N.
Despite writerly thrills with this creation, and despite believing that more than sufficed for my daily word count minimum, I came to office 1) to escape house, which is filled by Husband, his germs (the poor man is dripping out of every facial orifice), and the horrifying spectacle of the televised CORONATION ($40M? Did they forget there's a war on and hundreds of thousands of tsunami survivors have nowhere to sleep and nothing to eat? Not too mention the general end-of-the-world state we seem to be in ...); 2) to stay in the habit of weekdays at the office; 3) because I really thought I might get 500 ADDITIONAL words done!
Sometimes life intervenes, however. Life, in this case, takes shape of Dear Old Friend, who is sick again and back in chemo. He's been one of my heroes most of my life, but if this latest challenge doesn't make him a contender for the World Champion Superhero title, I don't know what could. (Ok, well, I do have a couple of ideas, but I think after this he's pretty much off the hook and all we needy, anonymous Metropoli ought to go bother somebody else.) Anyway, I spent much of the morning emailing him, and now I just don't want to work anymore today.