More pants-related mishaps; or, still not Martha Stewart.

I spent a decent amount of time researching just what vacuum I should buy that would be decently effective and powerful without costing an arm and a leg. "Gosh," I thought, after I had assembled it, "This is powerful."

Then it ate my pants.

(no subject)

I really meant to get back to writing when I had something more comfortable to sit on than an exercise ball. And then I started to get all awkward and embarrassed about the story, and to believe that David Levithan had already written what I was trying to write but better. I've changed my mind on that front, and I think there's actually a lot that's salvageable in my first draft even though there's no subtext and all the emotion is on the surface.

And, more importantly, I have figured out how to make the structure work. Or how to make it work better, anyway.

But if you have a book with a ninja musical in it, you can't really not finish, can you?