Last night I dreamed of the Mother of Cats.
Which sounds like the opening line of story but is, in fact, simple fact.
That also sounds like the second line of a story. I'm not sure what that tells me, but I should probably quit while I'm already behind.
(she looked a little like my beloved Pandora, only with longer fur and softer curves, but she wasn't a cat at all)
Meanwhile, my brain is set on two modes, each with its own habittrail:
Oh yay oh yay I have LOTS of fun research to do!
Oh fuck of fuck I have LOTS of time-sensitive research to do and no time to do it properly, oh fuck.
The new project begins to fill all available brain-space. But before that, I have paperwork to manage, and a mystery manuscript to revise.
End as you mean to begin, I suppose....
- Four More Work Days in the Year