Saturday 22 February 2014

Fingers bleeding. Got to stop.

It's not as if there's anybody flaying me or screaming for my blood but I've been writing like a crazed fool all week. And now I'm on the downhill slope of Old Geezers 2. A few days should see it off. The first draft is going to be short; barely 85k words, but I'll flesh it out on subsequent attempts. 

   And just like my writing I've run out of ideas. I painted this with all the intention of giving the deer something to look at but I've drawn a blank.
Maybe I'll come up with something tomorrow; but as for tonight, I'm going to hit the hay.

   I love Saturday mornings, nothing to do and the whole weekend lying ahead. Although tomorrow it's my daughter's birthday and I'm sure she's already got a million things for me to pay for.

   I can't believe that just a few days ago I was cleaning up her projectile vomit -  and now she's nineteen.

  I'm feeling sooooooooooooo old.


3 comments:

  1. I sympathize, even though I've got eight more years to go before Miss Tadpole hits that milestone. I feel plenty old as it is.

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  2. And not helping is when your alleged daughter wakes you up with "Get up you old git. It's my birthday. Oh, were you asleep?" - at 0530.

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  3. I say buy your daughter the world. Spoil that young lady. Nice painting. The deer is very good. All that writing? I can't wait to read some.

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