cimorene

apparently writing is tiring work. two and a half hours of writing (four pages single-spaced) then requires two and a half hours of sleep. hey, sleep is good. but i did intend to finish two short-shorts today and paint the chair.

*yawn*

there was someone named

ins in my dream, who, as far as i can tell based on our tiny acquaintance, didn't really particularly act like her. she was a nice useful supporting character who helped to figure out whatever we were trying to figure out. it had something to do with a painting and there were people trying to kill my mother, but i can't remember it very well. maybe it doesn't make enough sense to remember now.

one of these things just doesn't belong here