Oh, oh . . . oh, people. Rough times here, let me tell you.
I should have known the night was going to bring some kind of major strangeness, because I was able to get to The Undisclosed Location with little or no problems. It was about as smooth a drive as I’ve had in a long time. oh, sure: come Friday and it’ll be two and a half hours of hell once more, but yesterday I couldn’t have asked for a better time.
Editing: check. Finished Chapter 7.5 (of the novel edition) of Couples Dance, then got about, oh, maybe a thousand words into Chapter 8. The Satin Sheet Diva suggested that I edit in a way that would allow me to see the story as both a novella and a novel, and so there where changes in Chapter 8 that sort of glossed over events from Chapter 7.5–which, in the story, happened only a few hours before.
Eventually I’ll pull these two stories apart in Scrivener and make a few other edits to Chapters 8 to reflect what’s in Chapter 7.5, then renumber them so they make sense, but when it’s all said and done I can sell both to different markets. Or, sell the novella, then turn around and say, “By the way, I do have a novel version of this story . . .”, and send that sucker off. Either way, it’s a win.
I was looking for Annie last night. Didn’t see her, but speaking of Annie . . . well, you’d only know this if you have watched the BBC version of Being Human, but that Annie (and as River Song is want to say, “Spoilers,” so highlight if you want to see what I’m saying next) is finally going off to her well-deserved eternity and will no longer be a ghost. At least my Annie isn’t that Annie, though they are both very lovely.
So then it was off to bed . . . and Hell was truly unleashed.
‘Cause at 2:00 AM I really thought I was dying. I awoke and my insides felt like the Chest Buster (Hi there!) had taken up residence. It was horrible. I wondered for a moment if I was going to have to get up and risk going to the hospital, which would have been a trip, because I have no idea where there’s a hospital around here, nor do I have any of my insurance information . . . great planner, I know. I leave that to my characters, ‘kay?
But a few minutes of writhing in pain let me figure out what was happening. And the diagnosis is so anticlimactic–
It was gas.
Gas likely caused by all the crap I ate yesterday right before–and during, mind you–my travel to The Undisclosed Location. I mean, my eating habits have been hell for the last few months, and this is the end result. So this week, if I can, it’s back to salads and soup. I need to clean up and lose some of this weight I’ve put on.
After an hour, or so, it was back to dreamland . . . and more Hell.
Because, one, I had this dream that people were in The Undisclosed Location for no reason whatsoever, but they seemed to be there on the word of one of my neighbors, who seemed to believe that I had “something” in my place that was causing problems in his. So people were tearing the place apart–which, in of itself, is a neat trick, as there is pretty much nothing here. Have fun with that.
Then I drove off, though I knew where I was going, I couldn’t see a thing. I was movement in pitch darkness, and the feeling that you are going somewhere, but you see nothing. I get those more than a few times, and it’s very disturbing.
Then . . . I was in high school algebra, and a woman I know was sitting in the desk next to me, and she said, “You didn’t bring your book! Go get it; you have time.” So up I go to get my book . . .
I can’t find my locker.
I mean, I know it’s right here, in this spot, but I can’t find it. I’m even looking at the names above the lockers, and they are all alphabetical, and my name should be there, but it’s not. I start to panic, and then I attack a kid who is not answering any of my questions, I mean like totally ignoring me, and I go off and punch him several time–and nothing. Him and his friend act like this sort of things not only happens all the time, but the guy I hit didn’t feel a thing.
So I finally get to the office. I tell the person behind the counter that I can’t find my locker. And they say, “What is your group code identifier?”
I have no idea.
Then I wake up, it’s a quarter to five in the morning, and I fire up the computer, and get in here.
Insanity, man. I gotta stay away from crap and stick to the strange stuff I put my characters through.
At least then I know how I’m going to be once their madness ends.
