Have to finish the final proofread of Fated Blades today. Have to write Ruby Fever, the book that will never end. Have to do an interview for French publisher. Have to look at 2 chapters of someone else’s work. Have to make tacos.
So I decided to tackle a complicate cross stitch project for stress relief and I got about 20% into and then I realize that my canvas isn’t larger enough. Bummer!
Listening to a good audio book called Cry Pilot by Joel Dane. Haven’t finished yet so it’s not a recommendation. It’s a pretty dense military SF set in a really cool post-dystopian world. Their apocalypse happened awhile ago and the human kind is slowly climbing their way out of it. The author’s command of the language is lovely. I’ll do a full write up once I am done.
Little teaser snippet of things to come once the book that will never end is finished.
I sipped my cup of tea and looked at the cat sprawled across my desk. Olasard had draped himself over the glass surface as if he were boneless and showed no signs of moving. His big grey paws hung over my keyboard. I would have to wedge my hands under him to reach my function keys.
On the screen in front of me Instacart window helpfully informed me that I had ordered toothpaste from Costco in the past and that I should probably order it again. If I didn’t get a move on, my delivery window would get bumped. I preferred to get my groceries in the evening, using dusk and heavy traffic of people returning from work as a distraction. Evening delivery shoppers were always in a hurry. They didn’t linger and they were less likely to notice anything odd.
I rubbed the pink pads of Olasard’s left front paw with my finger. He twitched his ear and ignored me.
If Olasard was a dog, like Beast who curled by my feet, I would’ve moved him by now. Dogs were knitted from loyalty and enthusiasm, but cats were made of entitlement and outrage. Olasard’s entire body communicated that moving him was an unforgivable offense and if some foolish woman was to disturb the sanctity of his nap, she would surely feel bad about it.
I sighed, held out my hands palms up, and curled my fingers toward me in a pulling motion. The desk lengthened, carrying my keyboard toward me. Simultaneously the floor under my chair and beast slid back. Now Olasard had two feet of desk real estate for his exclusive use. Surely that would be enough.
I clicked the mouse, adding Crest 3D white to my order. It was Sean’s favorite toothpaste. Over the past few months, I had learned that when it came to daily life my boyfriend was a creature of habit. He had no problem dealing with a crisis that would send a normal person into panic but presenting him with a new brand of bodywash or shampoo would knock him off his stride.
Shopping at Costco used to be my Zen moment. I’d go in the morning, when the warehouse was next to empty, and there was something meditative about cruising the quiet wide aisles. Unfortunately, my work had followed me to Costco, and I had a regrettable incident, which was witnessed by a nice dark-haired woman. I’d changed to shopping in the afternoon, when it was much busier, to avoid her. It worked out well until two months ago, when I saw her in a parallel checkout line. She didn’t notice me, but since then I switched to shopping online just to be on the safe side.
Let’s see, toothpaste, deodorant, ibuprofen, foaming soap…
Olasard stood up, arched his back, walked over three steps and flopped himself over my keyboard.
He looked at me through half closed eyes, his nebula irises a beautiful green flecked with gold, and shut his eyes.
I concentrated and raised my palms. The section of the desk with Olasard on it rose and slid to the side on a flexible wooden tendril. I positioned it to the left of me and a foot above my head, so he would feel special being high up, and melded the two remaining sections of the desk together.
Olasard opened one eye and looked at me, measuring the distance between him and my shoulders.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warned him.