My brain that is.
I have had a fabulous writing day. And, as usual, my house shows it. Ha! I finished the edits and am now on my final pass. I couldn't be more excited. Hopefully by this time tomorrow it'll be in the hands of my fabulous critique partners. My eyes are whacked out, and I'm functioning on a partial brain as evidenced by me nearly blowing myself up earlier when I lit the grill. I wasn't paying attention and waited to long to light the flame, earning me the loss of all the hair on my hand, a burnt thumb, and a fireball that went up my sleeve. I was then trying to hack frozen hamburgers apart with one of the sharpest knives in my kitchen. Not smart. Especially today. But I lived and without permanent injury, so that's always a good day.
Once I get this manuscript out the door I have a critique to do for a friend who's been patiently waiting for me to catch up with myself. Then I have to write my synopsis. If you know any writers, including me, you'll know what a chore that is. I mostly don't mind and am usually able to come up with something coherent to relay my story, but sometimes writing one is like an axe in the middle of my head. And I never know how it's going to be so I always look upon the task with a little dread.
Next week is going to be a killer. I can't even describe what's on my calendar. You wouldn't believe me anyway. Every day and almost every evening is booked. I'm not looking forward to it except to get it over with and get to Friday.
I told you my brain was wrecked. Why did you expect to get anything but more rambling from me?