In our next house. . .

So, Steve and I have taken to stating what we’d like — or not like — to have in our new house, if-and-when.

For instance:  In our next house, the telephone will not be in Sharon’s office.

Until that happens, however, the telephone is in my office, and yesterday the damned thing just would not stop.  I’m not a big fan of phones as things to talk to other people with on the best of days, but yesterday, I needed to work.  Letting the call go to “voicemail” (aka, the answering machine) doesn’t help much, because –?

Yep, the answering machine is in my office, too.


Despite the annoyances of various calls, I did get about 1,500 words written well before 5:00, my “traditional” starting time, which left plenty of time to clean the bathroom, and then read the first 50 pages of the page proofs for Dragon in Exile, which landed in my inbox yesterday morning — and produced a distraction of its own, as the black ink ran out about 70 pages short of the finish line, and –?

I was out of black ink.

I’m NEVER out of black ink, being kind of obsessive about making sure I always have one spare of each ink cartridge.  I suspect Sprite took the last cartridge to print out the most recent draft of her memoirs, A Most Fair and Puissant Princess, and failed to write “ink” on the list.

To be fair, princesses don’t write “ink” — or anything else — on lists, and it’s really too bad of me to expect her to undertake such menial tasks.  This is what she has minions for, after all.

Luckily, Steve’s computer had ink in it, and so the last pages were printed.  I then checked to see if Sprite had left us any red pens and sticky notes, but those supplies are up to war levels.

Here’s what’s up today, then, at the Confusion Factory:

More coffee!


More coffee!


. . .that oughta keep me out of trouble.

2 thoughts on “In our next house. . .”

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