of a writer. Well, this writer.

Go to work at the non-writing job and spend most of the time working but with half of my brain thinking about VZ and when he first meets B at the airport and wondering whether or not B really knew DC’s dad or if he’s bluffing or if it’s just a non-issue. In other words, even though I was working, my brain was writing.

After work I went to a local school to pick up Oliver  where he spent the last couple of months. I was hoping to hear some feedback from the teachers but thus far, nothing. Then I went over to triple A to order my personalized license plate but couldn’t because they wanted cash or check and I never carry much of either anymore. Bummer. So I came home and did it online. And if you want to know what license plate I ended up with, email me. LJ friends have helped me get paranoid so I’ll not post it here.

Then I gathered up all my notes on DC and the research books on flying but haven’t put a word down on paper. Still. Why?

I don’t know.