I got an email from G the other day. Just a few lines, telling me not to despair, he hasn't forgotten he promised me a letter, he's just been swamped.

I, personally, find this to be a bit of bullshit, but it was distressing how much my heart eased, like a fist relaxing.

I'm still processing the things he said when he came here.

I haven't had much time to think, though. I've been working so much. But it's all done now, and I have time for sleeping.

Lots and lots of sleeping.

I slept for twelve hours after my last day of work. I bought a bottle of cheap pink champagne to drink in the bath, a little celebration for me. Except I finished my ginger beer, and was kinda full so thought maybe I'd drink the champagne when I got out of the bath, but fell asleep instead.

I refuse to let myself have any sort of hope when I check the mail.

Well, except for hoping my packages come in.

I once read about a lonely character who liked to order things from mail order catalogues, if only to have something arrive in the mail that wasn't bills.

I kind of understand it now.

On that note, I got a load of books in the mail the other day. All books about writing. I'd read one of them already, and had been on the lookout ever since. Finally, I broke down and ordered about five of them from the Avanced Book Exchange.

Including a book on character and viewpoint, written by Orson Scott Card. That's right. Written by one of the masters of character creation in the last hundred years (in my opinion).

Mmmmmmmmmmm...

And now I think I'll go for walkies with one of my books, head down to the thrift store perhaps, and healthfood store.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...

.

Rosie.

Before&After