"Doreen," Old 97's

Again, song in my head.

Today's plan is to work through the last bit of yesterday's scene (I think I know what I'm needing to say about that) and to sketch out the next one. Then I'm off to a thing at my friend A.'s house in celebration of another friend's upcoming wedding. I'm thinking there will be lots of wine drinking and complaining about the department on A.'s balcony. Woo!

I noticed yesterday that I'm struggling both with diction (where have all my words gone?) and the physical act of typing. Don't know what happened to my touch-typing skills, beaten into me by Mr. Greaser (first name Dick, son's name Scooter) in high school. Ah, the happy days of tip-tip-typing along to a Madonna 45 on the ol' Selectric. Good times.