You’ll forgive me if I’m not all the way here this morning, but I was up writing until 4:15 and am running on about four hours of sleep. On the Glasgow scale I’m right around “Hears the kitchen faucet running and thinks it’s raining really hard” at the moment.
This is because my short story, the one I am supposed to have been working on the entire term, is due tonight in my Creative Writing class, and until last night I had written almost none of it. Irresponsible procrastination you say? Mayhap so. But how well I remember the words of the Holy Bible (I think it’s in the Book of Nephi), “Why do gradually over the course of four months what you can do all at once in the few hours left before it has to be finished?” Truly wisdom for the ages.
The poor cat. I was up far later than usual last night, sitting in the chair she likes to sleep in. At one point she got so frustrated she jumped up on the desk in front of me and put up her dukes. “Come on, Papa — you and me for the chair, come on!” She’s still pissed at me, I think.
The good news is, it’s going pretty well. I have a long way to go, but the end is in sight. And, not that this really matters, but it’s shaping up to be a decent story, too. Very close to what I imagined it being when I first got the idea, which is a welcome bonus.
I have only about another eight hours to finish up, so back to the grind.
UPDATE (3:39 P.M.): She's a done, boss! One shitty first draft, ready to go. And with time to spare, too. Now I can take that shower!