Those Upon Whom I Look

I need to set some sort of alarm to remind me to take regular breaks to lie on the floor on my back. It hurts to do it, but it's the only thing that eases my shoulders at all, and when I don't do it, they just get tighter and tighter and tighter which also hurts. I'm pretty sure that the things that hurt when I lie on the floor aren't going to be harmed by it. The shoulder thing hurts and exhausts me. I'm pretty sure it's contributing to me not sleeping at night.

Cordelia and her friends were sufficiently bored by Saturday night's dance that they left after about an hour (considering it was a bit more than $25 per ticket, that seems like a terrible return on our money). They walked to one of Cordelia's friend's houses. Cordelia says she really wished for a jacket or sweatshirt because her dress is sleeveless.

Scott got really pretty cranky about not getting around to mowing the lawn on Saturday. The front lawn looks okay even when it doesn't get mowed for weeks, but the backyard actually gets sun for a lot of the day, and it gets pretty shaggy. I don't care because we don't do anything out there and because no one can see it but our neighbors who don't much care. Scott, however, was brought up with the idea that lawn care is Important as a sign of competent adulthood.

Seriously, when we were house hunting, we looked for the smallest lawn we could get. (Condos weren't an option because, in our price range, they were all either too small for our bed (or our books) or very, very vertical; most were both. We were more concerned about limiting stairs than about lawns.)

We got sandwiches while we were doing our library run yesterday because I was running out of time to eat. Scott got a sandwich with pesto, and the basil was so strong that I really wanted to get up and move because my mind associates the smell with getting sick after eating it. I hadn't expected to have that reaction, and I'll need to mention it to Scott so that he knows for next time. I don't mind him eating it, but it would be much better if we sat at separate tables for it.

We have no idea if we'll be able to go to the celebration for Scott's sister's birthday on Saturday. Her family needs to be done and gone before we can possibly get there if Scott's working that day. Sunday wasn't an option because of a choir fundraiser that will keep Cordelia most of the afternoon combined with me not being able to eat anything at all after 6 p.m. on school nights.

I think I'm in spitting distance of the end of the first draft of the story I'm currently working on. I hope so, anyway. I know the main thing I need to address when I edit. I just keep cat waxing, though. I can write a couple hundred words, and then I need to stop for a while. Mostly, right now, I'm looking over saved prompts to see which ones I really, really want to write. I think I need to delete any that don't give me immediate plot bunnies. Well, I'll keep the ones from people I know, too, with a generous definition of 'know.'