It helped that there was a little royalty check today, and that I learned this afternoon that the overdue big check should be along soonish, but mostly it was a better day because it was a McWane day. I spent almost four hours of it grinding away at the jacket Kathryn and I made way back whenever that was. Last month? I'm maybe an inch and a half from the bone layer, which means I might strike tylosaur tomorrow (which is also a McWane day). So, less broke + mosasaurs = less depressed and angry. See? I'm reasonable, people.
My right hand is sore from the air scribe, but what the fuck, right?
Tonight TV was an episode of American Masters about Andrew Wyeth, the season premiere of RuPaul's Drag Race, and the first three episodes of Season Five of Better Call Saul.
I only slept about five hours last night.
And there's eBay. Just click here to see all the marvelous books that can be yours. Good stuff. No, really. I'm not just saying that because I wrote them and need to pay my rent this month. Plus, when the coronavirus has you stuck inside (and you know it's only a matter of time now), you'll have shit to read.
Later Taters,
Aunt Fucking Beast
3:20 p.m.