Another bout of insomnia. No big deal. I amuse myself by drinking red wine and perusing writings on the net. Camomile tea and soft music might be the better alternative here, but oh well.
Little Guy walks around my legs, tickling me with his fur. Morrison is on the couch arm, and decides to jump down and check the kitchen for food. I hear him crunching on the hard food, which I always leave down for them.
I've been pondering over this novel-in-a-month venture...Nanowrimo... trying to plot out my story, and get a feel for the main characters. It's nerve wracking, because when I think about it, no words come to mind, and I wonder if I will be totally blocked for this endeavor. There's no time to think about it once it comes, though, and quantity seems to be of the first order. Truthfully, if I ended up with 50K words of anything I'd be happy. Well, that's not true; I can do without thousands of words of crap.
I have an idea of the beginning of my story, and a scene I would like at the end. The middle I don't have mapped out fully, except for certain ideas of characters meeting, and a turn-around in the main characters life... that'll have to be okay, because I don't think I'll be working on this plotting stuff much more this month.
Seems some heat came up, as the radiators were hissing. Now it's a little too warm, so I opened a window. Surely it's not quite time for heat just yet. It's 41°F/5°C. I guess a little heat won't hurt. The wine is warming me too, I suppose.
Well, that's enough rambling for now. Hopefully sleep won't be far behind.