*Insert Title Here*

I’ve been staring at the title bar for about fifteen minutes, and nothing else has flitted through my head but the thought of toast with raspberry jam and how I shouldn’t eat it and how I’m not really hungry but it sounds so delish with a cup of tea and… Okay. I seem to be a little more scattered than usual and a little more distracted-whack-ded. Suffice it to say it’s been a relaxing weekend of not a lot of chores and a whole lot of feeling guilty we aren’t doing more chores. As I type this, my darling husband is working on the disturbingly erratic drain on our laundry room utility sink. Sometimes it backs up, sometimes it doesn’t. He’s already taken it apart and found a bandage I made for the dog’s leg wedged in the pipe. Gosh, I love our animals.

The cats are asleep on the couch, saving their strength for the next time we feed them. The dog is passed out somewhere, too, probably close to darling husband. And me? I’m at the ‘puter, debating what to write and how to make it good enough for anyone to read. Everyone tells you to write what you know, but I don’t think a book about accounting, horses, midwifery, children, or dust bunnies would score an agent any faster than my middle grade series about a boy who ends up living inside of his manga story. I’m trying to let my muse (or anybody else’s, for that matter) approach me on her own, and it seems she’s having none of it. She’s so cranky. Must be the whole Mercury in retrograde thing.

And so I sit. My tea’s gone cold, darling husband has gone through a battleship’s worth of salty and colorful phrases as our plumbing fights back, and the soft and fluffy kitties are still curled up on the couch, snoozing away. I have to admit it – sometimes, you just get nuthin’. Sometimes you need to refill your well manually rather than let the groundwater seep in slowly.  Sometimes you have to kick your muse in the ass.

Zombie Gnome

 

Like this. A zombie garden gnome from PrezzyBox. Unfortunately, they are a UK company and don’t ship to the US yet. When they do, I’m getting a couple of these.

Watch out, Ms. Muse. Your lollygagging days are numbered.

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