Gnash, gnash: I hate, hate, hate cover letters. Particularly ones that have to sell my writing.

Vetting of edits done at last, hallelujah. I’m ready to print the MS out and I’m stalling, because every time I’ve tried to print out a massive document over the past two years something has gone Horribly Awry. I’ll do it in twenty-page increments; that should stave off complete disaster.

I tried to put up a new curtain rod earlier today. One bracket was just fine. Doing the second one, the screwdriver slipped and drove into the little finger on my left hand. It is now swollen, stiff, turning lavender, and the bleeding gash has only just stopped seeping. Although I don’t use that finger to type, it’s making it awkward for the rest of the fingers on that hand to move.

I’m also testing out a new brining method for the holiday turkey on a chicken today. The kitchen smells delicious. I’m a fan of dry-brining, and I’m curious to see how the more traditional brining in a liquid solution works.

Thesecondcircle captures my feelings these days rather well:

Being this far North, we’re desperate for the solstice to come. The sun is setting so damned early. It’s charmingly pagan, but makes me just want to sleep and sleep.

Back to wibbling over my cover letter. My synopsis keeps turning into a hook.