Short and sweet tonight. I came home with a client-induced three aspirin headache (I’m not kidding… clients are such, well… clients) to find the furnace was broken and the repair crew busy until tomorrow.
Wrote anyway with a stocking cap on my head. I tried wearing a pair of thin, stretchy white gloves that my daughter got for her Halloween costume, but they bogged my hands up too much. If the furnace is going to make a habit of this, I guess I’ll have to find a pair of chimney sweep gloves (this is what I call gloves without fingertips because that’s what Dick Van Dyke wore in Mary Poppins). I recall seeing something like them offered as “writer’s gloves” in a 70’s issue of Writer’s Digest, so I guess it’s a matter of knowing where to look.
But I digress because I don’t think it will be an issue. Would be cool to find a pair, though.
Anyway, Richard and friend are now packing their car in preparation for leaving the motel in Albuquerque. Tomorrow they will leave and buy bullets on their way out of town. That should end chapter nine. I’ll probably type in the reconciled outline before moving on to ten. Maybe.
276 pages (+2)
64527 words (+516)
NP – Weimarband, Sturm ‘n Twang