The Flattering Form of Failure

stockvault-old-electric-fan114107Progress is progress.

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

So there.

*pauses to nibble on a hangnail, studiously ignoring the ugly, cloying truth of the matter*

One hundred and fifteen words is progress, darn it! Anytime you leave a manuscript fatter than how you found it, success can be rightfully claimed.


*nibbles on another hangnail, refusing to acknowledge failure in even its most flattering form*

Needless to say, I hope to do bulkier work on the editing of The Hushing Days today.

*accidentally rips a nail off from a finger, but keeps nibbling furiously anyway*

My air conditioning is out.

Repairmen are coming this afternoon between 2 and 6.

Housework to make the house acceptable to visitors will take most of the morning (seeing as I will be working in conditions approximating an over-achieving sauna).

My nerves will kick in between 5 and 10 minutes after I post this post. Therefore, I’ll be lugging flu-like conditions around in my sauna-like conditions. Therefore, the closest I’ll probably come to The Hushing Days today is my bemoaning its neglect in this blog.

So, that one hundred and fifteen words I managed yesterday was indeed a whole boatload of progress compared to what I won’t be doing today.

Like I said, progress is progress.

So, um, there.

Until tomorrow…


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