I think I have finally gotten it through my head that
- I am too old to stay out until 3:30 am.
- I am also not equipped to drink Cosmopolitans, those pink demon-spawn cocktails from hell.
- Ignoring points 1 and 2 means that the weekend eats Sunday while I sleep. And sleep. And watch bad TV. And sleep more.
Things I didn’t get done this weekend, which I am now regretting:
- Decorate the house for Christmas
- Do the graphic design job for the Student Learning Centre
- Finish ‘No Ordinary Coward’ and continue working on the as-yet-unnnamed story
- Prepare my final notes for this week’s thesis work
So, basically, I am feeling pretty blah this morning. Not a good way to start off the hardcore thesis writing week I have planned for myself.
Oh, and got an email from Writers of the Future telling me that my entry for the 4th quarter was a no-go. Dang. I suspect that my stories aren’t space-shippey enough for them, but I’ll keep entering until I’m no longer qualified to do so (a win-win situation, if you ask me: either I can no longer enter because I’ve won it, or I can no longer enter because I’ve had too many top-level publications to do so. Either option would be A-OK as far as I’m concerned.)
OK. Gotta go sharpen my weapons: there’s an albatross that needs killin’…