It's true: I'm expecting. I'm going to have a baby. That's why I'm up at four in the morning, hacking away on a keyboard with oddly spaced keys that have me wondering whether I have arthritis of whether I'm actually shrinking. Piece of crap.
Not a literal baby, silly, but a figurative one. A child sprung from the loins of my mind, borne of the Muses' insistent insemination of my brain-vagina with copious quantities of Creative Juices. And they promised to pull out - damn!
So, what will it be? A book, since I have dictation, background and yes, chapters, ready to coalesce into a finished thing with sketches for three other things done? Starting working out with band now that my voice is back and consistent? Finally finishing the three websites I put on the back burner four years ago?
Oh, heck. Who am I fooling? I have yard work to do. Here comes the sunrise. Better wash up.