The highlight of my day was eating a doughnut.
The lowlight was realizing that I just ate that effing doughnut. And that I wanted the rest of the doughnuts in that big, beautiful white box.
I'm working late, fuzzy socks over my tights to ward off the sub-zero windchill that seems to be seeping in through otherwise nonexistent cracks in the wall.
I'm just plain cold. I'm convinced wine would help with that. Alas ...
Trying to write, and all I want to do is listen to the Lord Huron album I downloaded tonight, drink lots and lots of wine and read George RR Martin.
No dice, because tonight was kind of a dicey night of city government.
So it's coffee, a digital recorder on half-speed playback ... and the music quietly piping over the clatter of my scatter-brained typing.
Alongside cranking out a kick-ass story (or three), it's the best I can do.
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