Thursday, August 4, 2011

Thursday already... that's some crazy shite!

It's been a week. Not an overly wonderful one, but a week nonetheless.

Work was slow in the beginning of the week, concentration lacking - probably the joy of having a silent house during the day. I got more done than I thought, which is always good.

Yesterday - Squealer had a hospital appointment and then blood tests. Bang! there went four hours. Pretty much wrote the day off. I ended up working late last night, hadn't intended to but I worked until midnight and it wasn't too bad. I read it this morning and despite it being a little rough, the scenes are pretty good. Even fun.

Today, Breezy is home. I'm sick of her waking me up every night coughing - pretty sure she's sick of it too. So it's back to the doc this afternoon. I also want her ears checked again - it worries me that she had such persistent ears infections over the holidays - and she's still on antibiotics.

I managed to get some work done this morning - despite Breezy and her annoying ways.

Also discovered just how well she can read - which would be hard for me to judge by her homework as she dicks around something chronic with that and drives me nuts! Seems she can read quite well, over my shoulder while I'm writing. Good to know. I will keep that in mind as write the next crime scene.

Sneak peek at a scene from Soundbyte (the 5th Byte) WIP?  Okay - here ya go.

Excerpt: Soundbyte.

“You’re smiling,” Kurt said. “What are you up to?”

“Eyes on the road buddy. Mind your business,” I said reading the flurry of incoming tweets.
And to think I’d wanted to ditch twitter after the Mailbox killer started sending chopped up bodies to some of the people, including me, who were using the #wheresmymail hash tag. An involuntary shudder rocked my body. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a psycho mail carrier. Yeah, my mind is a twisted place. Anyone looking in would be confused by my thoughts. Hell, I’m confused by my thoughts.

“You all right?” Kurt asked.

“Surprisingly. Yes. I. Am.”

“What’s going on in that head of yours Conway?”

“If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck… it’s probably a duck.”

That did it. Kurt pulled off the road.

“We’re talking about ducks now?”

“No, Campbell.”

“Campbell is a duck?”

I could imagine him making a call to a secure psych facility on my behalf.

“No, Campbell is a soldier, he’s got a plan. This is all part of it. He’s leading us somewhere and he’ll have tactical advantage.”

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