It's not that today is particularly memorable but my brain is somewhere out in La-la land at the moment and I can't remember to breathe, let alone anything else. It's a good thing my body takes over. This week my no-so-puppyish doggy has been spayed. I had high hopes she would calm down for a few days. HA! The mad mutt is madder than ever.
Faith picks any dog to lie on.
Total amount of writing this week... Zero! This peeves me because the muse is working overtime to make up for the months she buggered off on some hedonistic cruise somewhere.
A tiny snippet from A Cock in the Window.
I lock up the shop and lead the way through the back to my parking space. I see his lips twitch as Steve surveys my car. “Go on, say it.”
“A Smart car.”
“You have a bright yellow Smart car.”
“Which do you object to most, the make of car or the colour?”
“Both.” Then Steve realises what he’s just said. “Shit, that wasn’t diplomatic, was it?”
“Not really. What’s it to be, Steve? Brave the car or walk?”
“Are you sure I’ll fit in it?” he asks doubtfully.
“You’ll manage. It’s not for long.”
“If I need physio after this I know who to blame.”
“Get in, you big baby,” I say unsympathetically.
He folds himself into my car and scowls as he has to sit with all the food bags at his feet. “Fuck, couldn’t you have got something cool and big, much much bigger.”
“Pardon me for not anticipating I’d have a famous person in my car. I’d have made sure I had something more suitable for your highness.”
“You see, total lack of planning on your part.”
I ignore him as I concentrate on the narrow alleyway to the road. There is a reason I have a small car. I like keeping my wing mirrors intact.
Time to get back cooking. *sighs and blows kisses*