I have had a bitch and a half of a week. It seems
like each day brings its own particular brand of crap. And I’m not even going
to go through it here.
In my NaNoWriMo novel, if faced with a week like
this, one of my main characters would anesthetize herself with massive spreadsheets and crunch data until her ears were bleeding. The other main character would crank
up the volume on a couple of Bach cantatas and then cycle through the
Brandenburg concerti. My victim would have swallowed a bottleful of rum.
Me? I’m hunkered down with DVDs of the entire Due South series.
Make of that what you will.
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