Cyclone, meet deadline.

I don’t suppose there’s ever a convenient time for a cyclone to park itself over your head. But this feels particularly inconvenient.

I’ve been smashing out the second half of Sleeper Agent 3. After grinding through the first 15 chapters or so, everything suddenly clicked. The characters took over and started telling the story for me. The last week and a half, I’ve been averaging five or six thousand words a day.

That’s not going to happen today. Or probably for the rest of the week.

I’ve got maybe another hour or two to keep working on the manuscript before I have to finish my storm prep and drive over to Kenmore to secure my mother’s place. She’s about 20 clicks further west, so by the time Alfred reaches her, it’ll just be a reasonably brutal storm.

Down here on the south side, though? The Bureau says we’re getting the hammer.

Might have to lay in some more beer. And ice.

(inhales deeply)*

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*Love the way the dictation software chose to include this line.