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Just posted the fourth chapter of TSPB. Which is good. But chapter five contains all the exposition which freaks me out, so I am uncertain when I'll get that up.
I expect to be destroyed for this, but I have done nothing this weekend. Nothing. And it isn't my fault.
Exhibit A: Friday. Was whisked off to baby-sitting immediately upon return - had only time to throw backpack into the house. Did not return until around eleven. Was exhausted, took shower, fell asleep.
Exhibit B: Saturday. Slept in due to exhaustion, brought on by being up late all week. Was once again dragged off places. Jenna's Christmas program thing, then baby-sitting. Returned at six. By this time, the computer was broken. Dad was in Vegas. Tired and angry, proceeded to watch TV all night. Was bad idea to watch History's Mysteries immediately before bed - terrified self into believing that Bigfoot was in my closet. Should stop watching things that scare me.
Exhibit C: Sunday. Was dragged to baptism of semi-cousin Ethan. Returned at three. Was by then thoroughly engrossed in Curtain and could not be bothered to stop reading, because nothing has ever affected me so much as this, but that is not the point. Finally finished, kidnapped mouse from brother, and began work on Sociology. Will be leaving in less than an hour for stupid youth group, and upon return will be watching Boston Legal and going to bed.
So, you see? It is not my fault that I haven't written a single word. It is not my fault that my Soc research is less than stunning. IT IS NOT MY FAULT. And people should really warn me before writing off my entire weekend for me.
Anyway. Curtain. I figured out...who did it. And that might account for the illness and the shaking and the complete inability to pay attention to anything else. And Agatha Christie is a goddess. And...wow.
I've been affected by books before, of course. I cry a lot. I actually screamed once, and on another occasion was so startled that I actually threw the book in question halfway across the room. The ending of So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish stunned me into near-insensibility. The point of this would be that I fear I am doomed to marry a book, and wonder if this is legal or if I will have to convince Pyrae to take over the country just to legalize marriage between human and words.
Failing that, I could turn Misery and kidnap Terry Pratchett, Richard, and all those other authors I adore, and make them write things for me.
I expect to be destroyed for this, but I have done nothing this weekend. Nothing. And it isn't my fault.
Exhibit A: Friday. Was whisked off to baby-sitting immediately upon return - had only time to throw backpack into the house. Did not return until around eleven. Was exhausted, took shower, fell asleep.
Exhibit B: Saturday. Slept in due to exhaustion, brought on by being up late all week. Was once again dragged off places. Jenna's Christmas program thing, then baby-sitting. Returned at six. By this time, the computer was broken. Dad was in Vegas. Tired and angry, proceeded to watch TV all night. Was bad idea to watch History's Mysteries immediately before bed - terrified self into believing that Bigfoot was in my closet. Should stop watching things that scare me.
Exhibit C: Sunday. Was dragged to baptism of semi-cousin Ethan. Returned at three. Was by then thoroughly engrossed in Curtain and could not be bothered to stop reading, because nothing has ever affected me so much as this, but that is not the point. Finally finished, kidnapped mouse from brother, and began work on Sociology. Will be leaving in less than an hour for stupid youth group, and upon return will be watching Boston Legal and going to bed.
So, you see? It is not my fault that I haven't written a single word. It is not my fault that my Soc research is less than stunning. IT IS NOT MY FAULT. And people should really warn me before writing off my entire weekend for me.
Anyway. Curtain. I figured out...who did it. And that might account for the illness and the shaking and the complete inability to pay attention to anything else. And Agatha Christie is a goddess. And...wow.
I've been affected by books before, of course. I cry a lot. I actually screamed once, and on another occasion was so startled that I actually threw the book in question halfway across the room. The ending of So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish stunned me into near-insensibility. The point of this would be that I fear I am doomed to marry a book, and wonder if this is legal or if I will have to convince Pyrae to take over the country just to legalize marriage between human and words.
Failing that, I could turn Misery and kidnap Terry Pratchett, Richard, and all those other authors I adore, and make them write things for me.