The original forecast yesterday was for less than an inch of snow — the first of the winter white stuff. The forecast is now — Saturday morning — for one to three inches, and it is coming down with a let’s get busy on meeting that forecast, fellows attitude. I do not want to see white when I look out the window, not this early in the season. Not ever, really.
So much for what I want. There are 5,800 words waiting to be written before I can declare myself a NaNo winner for another year, plus however many more I can come up with. It isn’t helping that I go to bed exhausted and wake up tired. But I will forget all that and become the hero of my own life, or whatever BS will keep my fingers on the keyboard.
You know that cliché that always pops up in action movies, like a turd that won’t flush — “I’m getting too old for this.” That’s how I’m feeling right now. But onward and upward, stiff upper lip, and all that good stuff.