God Damn Real Life.

I’m supposed to be writing a book. So of course I noticed mould growing in my bedroom, down near the baseboards, when I was vaccuuming last night, and had to bleach the living hell out of it. And then take a big suck on my inhaler, because mold + bleach = asthma. Yes, we are all so sexy over here.

And then, of course I was woken up this morning by my landlady, calling from Florida. The roof is leaking again, and the guy upstairs is going to Vegas today. So I had to call around and find someone who will come over and put a tarp over our house until the landlady gets home. And then I’ll be on Bucket Check Duty upstairs.

And of course I noticed that the guy upstairs has ‘tasteful’ nudie shots of some woman (Random? Fuck buddy? Girlfriend? I can’t think of a polite way to ask) on his screensaver, which I totally wouldn’t have expected of him.

Oh, and then, there’s the ‘I haven’t got a plot, do I?’ worry. Meh. I’ll just keep introducing surprises until it’s time to wrap it up in the pyrotechnic style of which I’m sure I’ll suddenly become capable.

Ok. Whinge over.

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