There will be an explosion of monumental proportions any minute now at work. I am battening down the hatches, at least metaphorically, since I don’t actually know how to do that.

The bad thing is if this explosion follows the track I expect, I’ll be a lot busier at work. The good thing is it might rid me of a thorn in my side. My grumpy self and my lazy self are currently thumb-wrestling over my happiness level. I would expect my grumpy self to win since my lazy self is, well, lazy.

You know you’re wanting your poetry podcast fix! Go here and perk up your ears.

I’ve been carting my NaNo around on one of those usb drive thingies on a lanyard around my neck.

Today? I forgot it at home.

O pain. O torment.

I might actually have to, you know, work at work now. Bastards!

If anyone wants to read my NaNo as it stands, I have put it up on my Writely account. To read it, I will have to invite you, so I’ll need your email address. You can either email me (jsgoddess@gmail.com) or post a comment here.

Or, if you’re a member of TUF, you can see the whole shebang there.

Edited: Change of plans. The Writely thing was too hard, so I put it up on a WordPress blog (Scavella gave me the idea). I did password protect, though, so just send me an email (jsgoddess@gmail.com) to ask for yon password and ye shall receive.

I’ve done well catching up on my goal, but I’m finding myself unable to read, write, or think about poetry. Like usual, I’m reading three or four novels, but poems? I think I could read an entire novel expending less brainpower than a single poem would cost me right now. Gosh.

It’s amazing that with my love of books I dithered for so long before spending my gift certificate. Three new books and one beloved box set. I glow with delight! (It could be radiation, but we’ll call it delight.)

Thanks again to John Vick. And if you haven’t read or submitted to The Adroitly Placed Word, you’re missing out.

I think I’ve written about 10 words for my NaNovel today. Yesterday, nearly 4000. I am the Dave Kingman of writers. It’s either a strikeout or a home run.

… One poem or many?

That is the stumper of the day.

“Please submit a couple of poems.”

I’m happy to comply. I’m delighted to comply. But for some reason picking poems after I get an invitation is harder than picking poems when I don’t get an invitation. I’m like a puppy, and I want to make the inviter happy. I don’t want there to be post-invitation regrets. I don’t want the editor to say, “Yeah, we invited her but wow, that was a mistake!”

I’m overthinking this, again, aren’t I?

I finally gave up at about 1 o’clock, went upstairs and poked the sleeping Steve to tell him the Dems had a slight lead in Virginia and Montana but Missouri was a mess.

I wake to find that they still have a slight lead in Virginia and Montana and Missouri might still be a mess but it’s a mess with a new Democrat senator.

The question is: Should I go wake him again to tell him? I really should.