New Words: 1,032 / Dead Queen, 356 / Away
Revised Words: 1,672 / Dead Queen
Soundtrack: Toad the Wet Sprocket and Vienna Teng
There have been other words, new and revised, since I last posted a metric. But I'm not going back to look them up, so you'll just have to trust me. At last I've waded through the shoehorning sections I needed to write since cutting 31 pages, and I'm back into revising what I'd already written.
In other news, the worst blood-taking evah? I wasn't lying. My wrist is still giving me grief! Clearly she has done permanent nerve damage and I will be a cripple for the rest of my days. Oh, the trauma, the sheer heart-rending injustice.
But right now it is time for me to collapse. Although how I plan on sleeping, I'm not sure. For something is scrabbling outside my window.
Of course, rationally, I know it's a possum. (There has been a koala sighting recently; I guess since the dog is no longer around, they're happy to come closer.1) But more likely a possum. I know this because there is a hose which hangs across the top of my window, to deliver water to the back balcony when needed. The possums love to use this hose to rappel across between the balconies, like the little military critters they so clearly are. Plus, you know, live in trees — so scrabbling up wooden walls isn't exactly going to be difficult for them.
If it's a boy possum, and he starts up on his mating call (which sounds remarkably like an ancient lawn mower flatly refusing to start), there's no hope for me.
- Dogs kill koalas very, very easily. The poor critters have no body fat (so puncture wounds find vital organs almost immediately) and can't live through shock for any prolonged periods. [↩]