Thanks, Mar, for the loan of your muse. The only reason she’s helping me at all is because she heard there’s a polar bear on her tail, and she’s trying to stay ahead of it. I haven’t bothered to tell her that Inuit is (mostly) harmless, because I’m not perfectly sure that’s true, and because I’ll take whatever momentum I can get, by whatever means it comes. She’ll come back to you with a red furry dragon in tow. THAT ought to spark up your Victorian romance.
1893 words. Many of them are unlovely words. I wrote myself into a corner, ditched the chapter, and started with the next one (the last one, thankfully) that I DO know how to get through. At least I think I do. Guess I’ll find out tomorrow, hey?
In other news, I had my ultrasound today, but won’t get the results back until the 28th. I would just like to remind all my faithful readers what a true blessing it is to be able to pee when you need to. This business of drinking a quart of water and then waiting for an hour and a half, and THEN having somebody poke your belly for fifteen minutes is—not a nice business. We take much for granted each and every day, and this is one I’m going to remember to be thankful for for awhile. At least a few days.