I just found out that I should have been at a party right now.

Should have, if AOL and other nameless electronic entities had bothered to deliver my invitation. I found out because the host just called and greeted me with "I assume you're being sensible and dry?" Well, I suppose so--but I do own a coat and an umbrella, and would have ventured out in the rain for this. Buff hobbits don't melt.

On the positive side, I have written 3000 words today, and even have some idea of what the fish want. (Unless I tear this whole conversation up and try again, or decide they were lying, or the character imagined it in a fever dream.) But I'm far less excited about that than I was half an hour ago--I don't get out enough as is, without losing party invitations.

From: [identity profile] red-queen.livejournal.com


Sympathies to you both... sounds like One of Those Things, and I hate 'em too.

However, I must carpe le bon mot (les bons mots?) de redbird: "Buff hobbits don't melt." That is PRICELESS. Right up there with a brilliant comment from friend Jean, in response to one of my shoulda-done-something-else despondent fits: "Ah... that would be the tense Past Imperfect Useless, would it not?"
.

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redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
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