The road to hell is paved with the best-laid plans of mice and men. Truly, I did have good intentions for the weekend past. I had a list of things to accomplish:
Pull together the requested spec material for a possible new part-time gig
Get cracking on organizing my friend's memoir
Write one or two blog entries
Start outlining three new scripts for animated kids' show
Spend an hour or two on current YA/Fantasy work in progress
Instead, spent the weekend in bed mostly, feeling as if my limbs were weighted down with birdshot and an invisible cement garden gnome was sitting on my chest. Made a feeble attempt at clearing up some encroaching junk trees in the back garden. Henry (the wirehaired terrier pictured here with the house dragon) helped by peeing on the branches before I could haul them off, so I left them sitting.
Sunday:
Cooked a lovely pork roast
Read and re-read some romance novels
Slept a lot
Did not win the lottery
Woke up Monday morning from a convoluted dream that ended with a sleepover party hosted by Elizabeth Warren. Lots of women there in their PJs.
There was a brouhaha over how I'd cooked, carved, and served a steak. I recall asking Liz if she wanted me to make a salad to go with the entrée. She said she preferred to serve it with cottage cheese. ("Not kosher," I was thinking.) We also took a snarky but good-humored dig at Hillary Clinton. I don't recall what was said at the time but everyone, including Liz, laughed.
Hopefully, the coming week will prove more productive.
