I've had my noise-cancelling headphones on all day because there’s major demolition happening—both across the street and on the property behind us. It’s been a huge and constant racket.
But what really had me worried wasn’t the noise. It was Willow, one of our cats. She’s usually banging her head against my office door by lunchtime, demanding to be let in so she can sleep wherever the hell she wants—usually right on top of my keyboard. But today? Nothing.
I wrote to the US law firm running a class action against Meta for IP theft and got a good result:
With everything going on in the world, it says something about me that this was the story (free link) that most engorged my rage gland today.
I sent a manuscript off yesterday, which was good, and I would’ve liked to have swung into another one today. Probably the edits on the last of the Cruel Stars novels. But I have an army of tradesmen heading my way. Some of it is cyclone-related. Guys coming out to do insurance work. And some of it is just kitchen maintenance. We’re replacing the oven after 20 years and the dishwasher after 5 or 6, which seems to be about as long as a dishwasher lasts these days.
Starts off looking like a southern gothic crime thriller starring a beat down Kevin Bacon as a gnarled bounty hunter…
Ok, you have my attention.
Goes sideways. Hard.
