Eagles Over the Kennebec

Today’s attempt at filing revealed that there was too much paper to fit into the Current Year file drawer, so I went downstairs and rustled up a Banker’s Box, pulled the soon-to-be-old-year files, and put them in the box, then recycled a bunch of old folders for 2011 files. Industry, of a sort.

In anticipation of the storm yet to hit, Steve and I have charged our various implements of destruction, those including Haysus the Asus; the Leewit; and both cellphones. We are, I believe, As Ready as We’re Gonna Be™.

In between doing the filing and taking a nap (waiting for snowpocalypse is hard!), I wrote a couple words.

And now I’m going to go find a glass of wine and a sammich.

G’night.

Progress on The Book Presently Known as George:
16,671 words/100,000 OR 16.67% complete

The three streeters were sadly familiar — Hank Regis, with his right hand in a splint; Mort Almonte, with his nose at a funny angle; and Danny Bell, swearing and sweating while the tech took stitches up a long, deep cut in his arm. By rights, there should’ve been two more, but maybe Parfil and Dwight had got lucky.

Originally published at Sharon Lee, Writer. You can comment here or there.