When the hitman comes, he knows damn well he has been cheated

I am officially in full summer mode--I can barely keep track of what day it is, let alone tell you what I accomplished or did not accomplish over the last week. At least, not without thinking about it really hard. And I am going to pass on that.

I can tell you that the house is mostly clean, the laundry mostly caught up, and the kitchen well-stocked enough to prevent starvation. We have taken walks, sat on the back deck and read or talked, played cards, played Rock Band, and just generally enjoyed each others' company while also finding time to go off and do our own individual things. The whole "late to bed, late to rise" thing is kinda nice, too. I know I'll pay for it when I have to readjust in August, but right now, I just don't care.

On the writing front, I am making no plans. No outlines. No word count meters. I'm trying to put in at least a couple of hours a day toward doing something writing-related, but that's the limit of my goals for now. What I have been doing is working on Crowmaker. In a very laid-back, roundabout, no pressure kind of way. Vincent suggested another song for his playlist today. I have been reading up on assorted, semi-related historical topics as it strikes my fancy. I have written the skeletons of a couple of new scenes. But that's all I'm going to say about that, for fear of scaring off the muse.

In the meantime, I am steadfastly refusing to think beyond the end of June.