I golfed Tuesday and shot horribly. I did hit a lot of fairways, but couldn't chip to save my life. I painted yesterday, up on a ladder; I painted the highest reaches of our sprawling estate. I went to my writer’s club today. That was pretty cool. I sent a story to the “Air Out My Shorts” podcast. They read short-short 800 word stories there. They’ve already read one of mine in episode #46, so maybe they’ll read another one.
I’m plotting out a new bestselling novel. I’ve found a way to plot it all out first so it doesn’t go to shit in the first couple of chapters.
I’ve slept on my neck wrong for two days in a row, and it’s pissing me off, because it is like having a hangover, but I haven’t had any beer. What a rip!