By some strange, bizarre quirk of fate, it looks like I will be alone in the house most of the weekend.
Its kind of sad/scary, actually. I don’t think I’ve been alone at home for more than an hour or two in nearly thirteen or more years. I’m not sure that I’ll be able to take on the silence that follows me around the house.
So how does someone fill the voiding silence of an empty house? (correction: empty of people. Lexi, our dog, will be there.) I’m thinking this weekend would be a great opportunity to finish a novel. In fact, maybe this is the opportunity I’ve needed to kick Aspect Ratios in the butt and call it finished.
Or play a lot of x-box. But I’d really like to think I’ll finish the novel instead. There’s a few scenes left to write, some rewrites for continuity, and then its done. And done, even on a novel that I’ve flip flopped on so much over the last year, is still done.