The Shattered Prayer

There are times when poisoning people just seems like a good idea. Like now, for instance.

My neighbors seem to be having some kind of orgiastic hootenanny, to which I’ve not been invited. The noise is firmly against the regulations of the building, and the not inviting me is firmly against the rules of etiquette.

I’ve been totally faffing around this morning. Right now I’m faced with chapter 9, which is a crucial, halfway-point kind of chapter. Chapter 9 and Chapter 10 are major turning points for two of the characters, and I’m a bit daunted by the writing task before me.

So instead of writing, I faff around.

This is an article for southerners. You yankees can bugger off with your hot drinks.

Its late summer, and on a hot afternoon there’s nothing better while you sit on the front porch with your hound-dog, shot gun across your lap, than a nice glass of iced tea.