I should have been more productive than I was today, but I should probably stop saying that before I give myself an ulcer. And really, it was quite a good day. I had a 9am writing date with Kathia in North Beach, which I decided to walk to, but I had to go pretty far out of my way so that I could walk around Russian Hill rather than over the top of it (which is, thankfully, not as bad as going over the top of a WWI trench, but is still quite a brutal slog during which some streets turn into steps). But the half-hour walk was a nice beginning to my day, and the cafe was v. lovely and sunny and right on a cable car line, which made for good people-watching. Kathia was just as unenthused about her book as I am about mine, which made me feel a little better even if she's working on the third book she's written in the time it will take me to finish this one. Ha. So we talked for a bit, and then I got a couple of hours of good work done on the editing side before throwing in the towel and walking home.
When I got home, I did a bit of tidying up, then took a shower, then had a late breakfast at my favorite cafe down the street, where I met the new waitress, then learned from the old waitress that one of the other regulars I've noticed in there is actually the first-ever topless dancer in San Francisco. You learn something new every day. I'm glad I learned something new, since I was engaged in the utterly cheerless task of judging entries in a writing contest, which usually fills me with sadness and malaise. Then I came home, talked to my parents, wrote up some judging comments, went out for a drink, came home again, and ate leftover chicken and greek salad while talking to Terry (who found the link to the stripper, so thank her for that).
And now, I must go to bed; I have to go to this thing called a day job tomorrow, which is unfortunate since I have a million other things to do as well. Goodnight!
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