road to hell paved with unbought stuffed dogs**

Last night I went to bed between nine and ten. I wanted to sleep through the night and get a lot done today. Instead, I woke up at 2 a.m. to some great news in an e-mail from Tim regarding a project we’re working on. I’ll be glad when that’s at a point where I can speak more publicly about it–but that’s not yet.

Of course, I couldn’t go back to sleep, so I got a few things accomplished through the night, then went out early this morning. Sent my galley changes to Kensington for A COVENTRY CHRISTMAS. Got some birthday cards in the mail. Yesterday was James’s birthday, so in his honor, I had breakfast at our favorite Baby Barnaby’s. I love that place, and it would have been better except for the very tall woman sitting at a nearby table who was showing two inches of butt-crack. Why does anyone think the rest of us want to see that while we’re eating breakfast? Stupid low-riding jeans.

On the way home, with all kinds of plans in my head for work on TJB5, I realized I was getting a migraine. I could barely see to drive. Instead of having a wonderfully productive day, I took drugs and went to sleep until four p.m. So much for my good intentions.

**Bonus points for anyone who knows the source of this entry’s title

8 thoughts on “road to hell paved with unbought stuffed dogs**”

  1. I didn’t realize you suffered migraines (or, in a fit of self-absorption, I’d forgotten, if I knew). *dark room/silent hug*

    1. VERY rarely. They were frequent during my adolescence and twenties. Then they stopped, only to return in a different form for about ten years–severe four-day headaches connected to my “cycle,” but without vision problems or numbness (but with smell and light sensitivity and sometimes nausea). I still have those, but not every month like I once did. True migraines, like today’s, I almost never have. But I know that you do, and trust me, I sympathize. I hope that maybe yours will decrease in frequency or go away altogether as you get older, too.

    1. This was a line spoken by a drunken Bill to Jake after they pass a taxidermist’s shop in Ernest Hemingway’s THE SUN ALSO RISES. It’s one of those scenes that made me laugh, so that line always stayed with me.

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