We baked brownies yesterday. Yeah, they wriggle and scream a bit when you put them in the oven at first, but they soon settle down at 220 degrees and crisp up nicely. Why? (why make brownies, not why do they crisp up -- which is down to a hot oven and subcutaneous fat) Well, because I'm at something of a loose end at the moment. I should be getting on with the website, but I can't get access to the old computer all the stuff's on at the moment. And I can't really be bothered. Which isn't like me at all -- normally I am WORK ETHIC BOY! Chief work ethic person of the work ethic people. But not at the moment. I think we need a holiday.
But on the book front, I have things percolating away at the back of my head. Logan's fourth outing is beginning to take shape behind the curtained veils. Well, it's either that or my sinuses are backing up again. Which is entirely possible, after all, it's only been TWO BLOODY MONTHS since I had the operation. *sigh* Anyway, yes, so there are percolating, 'proop, plop, fsssssssssss' noises going in the old hairy subconscious for both Book 4 and something else as well, which I don't know what I'm going to do about. "Use it, or lose it!" as the Ideas Fairy says. They're not quite ready to start putting down on paper yet. I'll know the back of my head's done when the first line pops into my head like a piece of smouldering toast. Not the normal result of percolation, but that's what you get for employing cheap labour.
Where was I? Ah, right: Brownies. These came in a box with instructions and extra bits all the way from the good old US of A, courtesy of the lovely Tamara Siler Jones who thought I needed cheering up a wee while ago. And very nice they are too.
Now I suppose I should try and get something productive done. She Who Must is off volunteering at some horse-induced daftness today, leaving me and the monster cat to fend for ourselves. So technically it's a free day. But that just seems to make me more restless...