April Sweeps - Day 90

If I write today, it will have been three months, every day.  By my math, that should be one-fourth of a year.

Unfortunately, I woke up feeling a little out of it this morning, and an hour after my alarm went off, I was throwing up.  Maybe I shouldn't have eaten an entire can of peanuts before going to bed.

As a result, I'm trying to decide whether I should put off all work this morning and resume it in the afternoon, or if I should try to soldier on.  I'm going to give myself a half hour of doing nothing, and see if I feel better.

...

Whoops, I gave myself a bit longer than that.  I actually fell asleep for a little while there, and missed the mailman (had to go to the post office for, oh, the third time this week in the afternoon), but I felt totally fine for the rest of the day.

I even wrote a little bit on my totally lame and too-long story.  I'd like to be done with it and move on to something shorter and more inspired.  And I guess that means I'll still be writing in May.  As Adam Sandler once asked, What the hell happened to me?

I was editing the audio for "The Old Man and Me," and got to the part where the ghost speaks.  He's described as having a raspy voice (and died of lung cancer) so I tried to do as wheezy a job as I could, while still sounding like an old man in the Midwestern United States.  I have to admit that the story isn't nearly as crappy as I had remembered it being.  So, maybe the thing I'm working on now won't be garbage either.*

I was watching a YouTube video, and there was an ad that played for THE LAST JEDI just now.  I don't get that--you'd think they'd be advertising THE RISE OF SKYWALKER, or EMPIRE STRIKES BACK (which turns forty in three weeks).  But I'm happy TLJ is getting some love.  It was the last great Star Wars movie . . . maybe the last one we'll ever get.

The little writing I got done tonight got interrupted when my nephew was screaming that one of this three (count 'em, three) fishtanks got a crack in it and was leaking all over the floor.  By the time I got down there, the entire wooden floor was covered in water, and the fish were flopping around in the drained tank.  It was an extraordinary amount of work cleaning that up, from sopping up water with a dozen towels to moving furniture to get everything dry, to knocking over a shelf trying to lift it and have a thousand sports cards scatter all over (at least this happened AFTER we'd dried up 95% of the water off the floor).**

My nephew threw a fit over the damage, which I must admit I'd seen myself do over the years, and though I was angry at him over it, believe me, I get it.  Could be worse, too, since we managed to spare the floor of any permanent damage (I'm hoping) and only one fish met its demise from the incident.  Of course, that's writing time I didn't get to tonight (aw, who am I kidding, I wouldn't have written a word during that hour), and once again, an April day ends with very few words.

Except, I got an idea for a scene during my nightly run, and I meant to just jot it down in broad strokes, but a half hour later, I was still writing on it, inadvertently putting Natalie Whitmore in danger too, where it had only been Mason a day ago.  Cool.

I also found out why Mrs. Bice started hating Mason so much in between "The Night Clerk" and "Three-Time Visitor."  And that's cool too.

Weird, before I posted this, a second commercial for THE LAST JEDI ran on YouTube (a different one).  Guess they know what speaks to me.

Words Today: 1843
Words In April: 33,650

P.S. Each day of the month, I posted one of these:

Day 30: Gonna go with "Creep" by Radiohead.  I've recorded my longest-yet Storage Unit Serenade about it.  But these things have about a six week backlog.
You know, I think I'll go a few more days on this.  I went ahead and made a new line of daily questions.

*I nearly finished editing the whole story, and you know, it's not half bad.  I really like that the main character is me (basically) and a ghost is trying to speak words of comfort to him, when the author of the story has no comfort to give.  So, the ghost is wise, but also kind of distant and unfeeling, which is unnecessarily cruel, like life.  And it inspired me to pay off the big plot thread of that story in the story I've been writing this month.  Heck, gonna write that scene right now.

**I did something fairly similar a few months ago, and I started to write a story about it, but never finished.  Maybe I'll take this repeat incident as inspiration.