Thirsty last night so I went out and bought a 2 liter bottle of Tropical Sprite Remix. Not having anything to pour into, I've been drinking it straight from the bottle. What does this say about me? If you think you know, then write to:
Yesterday had some kind of bone caught in it's lungs. I spent a lot of time just driving around, first of all, continually looking for some place to write. I was weirdly picky . . . I finally settled on my aunt's Starbucks in Santee. There I wrote the entirety--from start to finish--of chapter 72. It is a pretty short chapter, particularly compared to 71.
Discovered that Sonic the cat has a wound on his neck . . . I found him in the garage sink. First I noticed all kinds of stickly sort of marrigold coloured sticky stuff on the left side of his neck. As I cleaned him off with wet paper towels (which, apparently, feels really good as it caused him to purr. I'd never heard that cat purr before), I found that under the mysterious junk was swollen, bare pink skin and two bloody holes.
They don't look like claw marks. I started thinking maybe he'd rubbed up against fly paper or something (accounting for the missing hair), but I'm starting to think it could be a bite wound as I spotted a coyote in the street later.
Both cats were energetic, getting into things in the house they weren't supposed to. I was feeling a little wacky myself, and I noticed at 1am that it was eighty degrees in the house.
So . . . yeah.