cimorene

from all the baking mom did, it must've been in the nineties in the dining room all through dinner, not to mention stuffy and damp. light-headed and headachy is probably not the way to have passover dinner. at least it seemed to be over relatively quickly, although come to think of it, i think the matza dad hid is still hidden somewhere or other. the heat must be what makes me so lethargic and ... lethargic. -_-

in this this old house magazine is the cutest picture of a treehouse, a tiny one with gables sticking out between branches and this pretty bendy lothlorien-looking door frame.

wrote almost a whole nother k/s scene last night before i went to sleep with my computer balanced on my knees, which somehow makes the writing seem more urgent than when i do it at a desk, maybe because it's, like, pinning you to the bed (...ahahaha). whereas i always feel like i'm perching in the desk chair. at any rate, i got that far pushing harder and harder against this feeling of uncertainty and i even wrote a spockianly over-analyzed kiss and whatnot, and then i realized there was some huge chunk of story missing. i need to write about an episode's worth of plot in the middle between the first and second scenes. why does this ALWAYS happen, the greatest uncertainty and frustration, when i start intending to write an essentially plotless ficlet? the fandom just won't lend itself to plotless smut for me. i suppose now i stick it out as long as i can without writing k'sal.