The first Monday of the New Year is for doing EVERYTHING. It says so right on this calendar.

This morning I dealt with a feline sugar crash (perfect timing cat, you couldn't have done that while at the vet's tomorrow?) and then delicately hammered out my daily dose of new words-

Brassy child, he muttered, not first the first time since she’d issued that threat.  His own fault for teaching her to tie knots, and to praise her for learning them so well.

- and then to Ikea to return a thing, and theb my twinling and I sat down, as we oft do - though now in the flesh rather than Skype! - and bemoaned the current state of our PiSS (projects in stalled stasis).  And in the bemoaning, as we oft do,  we able to fix each other - or at least give ourselves a new and more profitable direction in which to go.

So now I can toss the three failed attempts at an opening in this novella,  and start somewhere entirely new, in a different pinpoint of time. That should work, yes.

But right now, I need to put on my editor hat and knock other people into shape.  Cabana boy, where's my wine and lash?

vent the package so it doesn't implode

and on this first Monday of the new year, I am thiscloseto drawing the final line on people who say yes of course when they really mean maybe-evenually-at-the-bottom-of-my-someday-get-to-it..

As I said over this weekend, I have a very long fuse, but it's attached to a very large box o' dry gunpowder.