Writing, puking, stealing...

Nano's teaching me a valuable lesson:

There is no limit to the amount of crap I can pull out of my hindy hole.  110% of my story so far is just made up from nothing, just like that statistic.  It's not pretty.  Not pretty at all.

So predictably, I've fallen behind on word count again today.  I really should be writing more. I could probably get a couple more hundred words out of me before I retire for the evening at the very young and hip hour of 8:30pm, but here I am, singing along to Boston by Augustana in a way that's making even the ears of the tomcats in the area bleed I'm sure. 

Tomorrow I pack for an evening flight to Brisbane.  The last trip, less than a fortnight ago, had not been pretty.  The airplane was small.  And it had... propellers.  I haven't thrown up on a plane for about ten years now - the last time was on on my sister's Star Wars book - from memory, I think it was one with Han and Leia on Dagobah, but if that was never a thing, then maybe it's just my sanity unraveling.  Something about witches that could use the force, and  Leia almost marrying a prince... Nup.  Forget it.  Point is, I have a record to uphold, but these tiny planes and the winds that toss them around like toys are not helping.

Something I didn't mention in my last blog post, and that is when I went to Optus to get my USB internet thinggie, I came up with three crimes in the first minute of waiting around.  I think that if I ever quit my day job, I'd be a pretty good petty criminal.  Of course, I've never stolen anything in my life, but there must be circumstances under which I might steal something.  Maybe if someone's service was bad enough...  Maybe if I had to wait 5 more minutes that day...