it's where my demons hide

Tomorrow is going to be brutal because today was brutal and seven and a half hours of sleep isn't going to be enough to unsuckify it. My commute took two horrible hours this morning, which was a most unwelcome start to my week, although I'm glad that I v. unusually ate something before it (leftover chicken, breakfast of champions) and decided to take the bus instead of driving. Still, it sucked. Then I slogged at work, with several breaks to walk around, all of which were negated by the gluten free red velvet cupcake that I inhaled while celebrating someone's birthday. It's kind of sad that the team knows me well enough now to get me some gluten free confection when they get treats for something, since I then feel compelled to eat it. The sugar crash hit just as I was getting on the shuttle to come home, but luckily the commute back to the city was perfect, so I didn't have to stab anyone with my last ounce of strength.

However, I did have to judge a bunch of not-so-great contest entries that were due today, so that's what I did on the bus and at home for an hour and a half, when I would have rather done anything else. Then I made a steak and a baked potato, ate that in hopes that it would fight off the cupcake coma, and picked up Chandlord so that we could go together to one of the many stops on the bar crawl to celebrate Tom's thirtieth birthday. We backed each other up in being old and sober, but we stayed for an hour, which I thought was totally respectable. Then I dropped her off, came home, and did the task I was dreading all day...I read my editor's editorial letter on Alex and Prudence.

I was not looking forward to this, since I'd read the first paragraph at noon before deciding I couldn't deal, and the first paragraph said something about this being hard but not impossible. Ugh, shoot me. So I finally read the letter tonight, and she was right - hard, not impossible. She's also right about what's wrong, and her suggestions to fix them are great. But guess what? Remember how I was so smug that I made it through this book without rewriting the first half? I'M GOING TO HAVE TO REWRITE THE FIRST HALF. God. Tanks, writing brain.

sssanyway, it's not that bad, but needless to say I'm displeased that my concerns about the book were founded. It would have been so much easier if she'd come back and said she loved it. But the plan to fix this is a story for another day - now I must go to bed immediately. Goodnight!