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Dying of the Light
Oct. 2nd, 2004 08:39 pm( October 2, 2004 progress notes )
Two lightbulbs have blown out this week: one in the bedroom, one in the dining room, and I can't figure out how to unscrew the light fixture to change them. You only need one writer to change a lightbulb, but these fancy thingies on the ceiling are defeating both that writer and one chef. We might ask at the office on Monday: it's dark in this apartment past sundown anyways (need a standing lamp for the office area) and this one-bulb dimness thing will just ruin my eyes completely.
Didn't do any book work yesterday: was very tired after the bookstore work and goofed off with the boy. I think it's been more than made up for today, though. If I (again) don't slack, the draft could be done by the end of the week. And then I have to decide whether it gets another round of readers and a tinkering, or if I send it out to find work. I think it's pretty damn good, but then again, I always thought it was pretty damn good. *g* The struggle between impatience and perfectionist tendencies rages on. I want this thing out the door soon, though. I'm getting tired of looking at it.
Probably don't have to do any more work tonight, but the boy's working until close (1:30am) and I honestly don't know what else I'll do for four and a half hours. May update this with new words later.
Update, 9:15pm: Have figured out the stupid light fixtures, and actually had lightbulbs in the house. Better ones than were in there before -- some idiot stocked every fixture in this apartment with forty-watt bulbs. Now my world is full of sixty-watt gloriousness, and even the office dimness is improved. Might not need a lamp after all, just bulbs that don't suck
(I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Sixty Watt Lightbulb. You cannot pass!)
Two lightbulbs have blown out this week: one in the bedroom, one in the dining room, and I can't figure out how to unscrew the light fixture to change them. You only need one writer to change a lightbulb, but these fancy thingies on the ceiling are defeating both that writer and one chef. We might ask at the office on Monday: it's dark in this apartment past sundown anyways (need a standing lamp for the office area) and this one-bulb dimness thing will just ruin my eyes completely.
Didn't do any book work yesterday: was very tired after the bookstore work and goofed off with the boy. I think it's been more than made up for today, though. If I (again) don't slack, the draft could be done by the end of the week. And then I have to decide whether it gets another round of readers and a tinkering, or if I send it out to find work. I think it's pretty damn good, but then again, I always thought it was pretty damn good. *g* The struggle between impatience and perfectionist tendencies rages on. I want this thing out the door soon, though. I'm getting tired of looking at it.
Probably don't have to do any more work tonight, but the boy's working until close (1:30am) and I honestly don't know what else I'll do for four and a half hours. May update this with new words later.
Update, 9:15pm: Have figured out the stupid light fixtures, and actually had lightbulbs in the house. Better ones than were in there before -- some idiot stocked every fixture in this apartment with forty-watt bulbs. Now my world is full of sixty-watt gloriousness, and even the office dimness is improved. Might not need a lamp after all, just bulbs that don't suck
(I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Sixty Watt Lightbulb. You cannot pass!)
