I woke up at noon and all I could do was write. I wrote some Rosie/Lark. Went to the Petrol station and corner store to get Easter stuff to remind me of home. Came back and wrote Callica.
Came downstairs and made an actual meal for myself. Breaded chicken (cheating, pre-breaded but it required oven use) wrap with avocado (which I cut well!), ketchup (I can't have chicken without it), mayo (goes well as a first layer on the wrap), sliced olives, salt, pepper, paprika and sugar. I actually really liked it. Cleaned up after myself.
Uncle and Sue went out for some jazz evening. Instead of getting work done or further writing I found a site that would help me learn some French, for some bizarre reason.
They burned their food.
I think Sue is still quite neat but I am getting that under-skin feeling that she isn't all sugar and sweets. I get a bit of a strange feeling from time to time. I think she believes I'm exceedingly odd in many ways--one being the fact that I enjoy writing odd novels just for myself. But it's less the "good" odd for her, I think, and more of a judgemental one. I suppose that's OK. Her daughter seems like a very normal 19-year-old. I am not.
Watched an odd Buddhist film that was touching. Time to head up to sleep now. I get chocolate tomorrow. Will have to get myself to settle down and do a bit of work despite the holiday (let's face it though, to me it's just a day to celebrate spring and chocolate). Will let myself do some writing too.
I'm very focused on finishing the works in my "current works" folder, given there aren't many. I'm not sure how I'll feel when that's done. It will mean I have no current novels or short stories I'm working on. I haven't started something new in a long while. I need to start the hermionebang one.
Night night. Happy Easter to those who do it.