Nothing has gone right for the last four days.
As the heat wave roared in, I went to the dentist on Thursday & got a temporary crown which cracked apart within an hour of leaving the office.
Very bad for Facebook games.
Yesterday, still in the low hundreds with humidity in the 50s, I opened a letter from my agent & discovered someone had mistaken my request for a three-month extension for the deadline of Sex and the Pity as a two-month extension.
Of course that had to happen on a SATURDAY. When I can't do anything about it.
The building's elevator is busted. The door to the cellar is locked. My laundry is being held hostage & I can't take trash or recycling out.
I do not feel like writing.
play list of all the songs mention in the book so far. My fundamentalist family can listen with impunity -- & I hope you will enjoy it.
I'm even kinda in the mood for a smoke & an assault on the next bit, armed with Owl City and the lamented Amy Winehouse.
Of course, it's heresy to want to shave off the muffin top in the land of Lena. Not surprisingly, Dunham claims -- and it's possible true -- that she only ...