20 pages today, to catch up. I accomplished this by skipping some filler scenes and going straight for the good ones. Sadly, it means tomorrow I get to write a bunch of filler scenes.
Still about 2500 behind the schedule, but that ain't no thing. I'll have a draft of Black Desert by the end of April.
No, really! It's like a spring miracle!
Note I did not say it was going to be a *good* draft, but it'll be a draft nonetheless. My first drafts are always pretty wild.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Really, it wasn't all that bad. The kitchen was smallish, the closet space was minimal, and the bathroom was the size of an NYC bathroom (ya'll from there know what I'm talking about), which gives me panic attacks.
But it was right down the street, reasonably clean, and the rooms were, well, adequate.
But that's all it was, really: adequate. It was like the apartment I rented in South Africa. It was... enough. Adequate. But wandering around, looking at the panic-attack-inducing bathroom, I realized it just wasn't enough for me.
I mean, hell, I'm 28 years old. I have a good job. I'm not a student anymore, and though I want to live frugally, do I really want to live like a cockroach? There's living frugally, and then there's panic attacks in the bathroom.
So I'm upping my limit to $525 instead of under $500. I want closet space, a balcony, and a decent sized bathroom in additional to my dishwasher and air conditioning. Call me high maintenance.
Call me old.
But you know what? It's about damn time I lived like an adult and not a college kid in a fucking dorm room.
Description of the future goods to be delivered.... For those who can't read the smallish text, it reads: "Each work shall be a Middle Eastern-inspired fantasy novel featuring organic technicians, brawling mullahs, swarms of magician-trained locusts, and a former government assassin turned bounty hunter."
Yes, yes they will.
I love my job.
As part of our health and wellness program at work, we do fit tests every three months.
My weight = the same
My body fat percentage = the same
Resting heart rate = improved
Pushups = 8 more than last time
Situps = the same
Measurements = lost almost two inches around my hips and half an inch around my waist.
You guessed it.
About the same.
This is why I don't use a number on a scale to measure my progress. I measure progress by pushups and heartrate, honestly.
Since it looks like I'll have my own place May or June 1, I started shopping online for my old French perfume. Afterall, living on my own means that I can, once again, use scented products without slaughtering one of my roommates! Huzzah.
Arielle, my longtime favorite perfume since highschool made by Fragonard, the wonderful French perfumerie, has, sometime over the last year, been discontinued.
I had half a bottle left with Jenn at the old apartment. I'm sure it has since been pitched at some point during the horrific endgame that was our friendship (and yes, totally my fault. Much more was lost than half a bottle of discontinued perfume, but it's one more thing lost during that time in my life that cannot be replaced).
I guess I could get some Soleil or Capucine or Reve Indien, but... but... Yeah.
One more thing gone.
It's funny how sometimes it's the little things that get to you.