Always With the Noise ...
Oh, I am so very tired. Have only gotten a few hundred words written this evening, and though I very much wanted to finish the scene I was working on I believe that I'll take my weary self and my cup of herbal tea and head off to bed. ... In just a minute.
It's not that I have had to get up early lately. My problem is really that they're building a subdivision of a few hundred houses right behind my back fence--or will be, just as soon as they finish the seemingly unending process of pushing large quantities of dirt back and forth across the bare stretch of ground. They start up their dirt-pushing machines at 7:00 on the dot. And I have my window open. Not a lot, mind you, but enough that my room does not become overwhelmingly stuffy by morning, leaving me with enough oxygen in the air to actually wake up. But even with the window closed they make enough noise to rattle the light above my head. Oy. The result is that I'm woken a good few times every hour by the construction, so that my last hours of sleep are really just a collection of twenty minute or half-hour naps.
What the hell do they do out there that makes that horribly loud banging noise, anyway? My sleep-clouded brain interpreted it as a solid metal rod being driven into the ground with a bulldozer shovel. My awake brain can offer no reasonable suggestions.
Good news today is that I received my contributor's copy of
NFG Issue #2 today. I had been assuming that this was a digest-sized magazine and was shocked to discover that it is not. Poem looks pretty, though unlike something that I wrote. Karina poetry? With line breaks? Too odd.
