So here I am on my ‘Sunday’, with the plumbers downstairs replacing an old, rusted 4-inch collection pipe and awaiting the delivery of my fridge. I’m starting to think that my afternoon may end up being free – the plumbers don’t seem to be geared up for an all-day job (hope I haven’t just jinxed it) and the fridge is scheduled for delivery between 9-12.
In the meantime, I’m watching the Olympics coverage on the CBC, I’ve moved my laptop downstairs into the living room, and I plan to just putter away the day. I can’t leave, so there is no dog walking this morning (or possibly this afternoon), and I need to prepare for my next two days off – my ‘Writer’s Stay-Cation’.
Half-inspired by the ‘Left Behind and Loving It’ writing conference put on by Lynn Veihl (the Paperback Writer) and half-inspired by the ubiquitousness of the Corner Gas-termed ‘Staycation’, I’ve decided that when Todd goes away to the Toronto FanExpo, I’m going to do something special on my own. It’s going to be a candle-lighting, pajama-wearing, food-reheating, power-writing vacation. All writing, all the time.
Ginger, meanwhile, isn’t sure how she should take this invasion of the house. At first, of course, excitement. Now, with the giant hammers cracking the old pipe out, she’s not so sure. Fair enough. It sounds terrible. Greyson’s locked upstairs, sure to be in a foul mood once I release him, but with a length of pipe still in the front porch keeping the door open, I don’t have a choice.
In the meantime, I’m going to get the rest of my notes into the Journler program (whose spelling always befuddles me), get my character portfolios set up for The Last Witch (nee Spirit Cat), and maybe read a bit, once the sun comes up proper.