Just got the first round of edits on "The Cradle" back from one of my excellent proofreaders — not too bad, most of it was my fault.

Oh. Good. It turns out that they already sold that house. I can stop obsessing over it.
Yeah. Right.

I should probably stop obsessing over the house that's for sale down the street. Sometime. Soon. Maybe. Not.

Labor Day. No rest for the wicked — or, you know, professional internet jerks with whiteboards.

Words of wisdom from my wife: "There should be a rule in movies that after a sex scene you're not allowed to cut to a scene of a midget,"

And on that note... Bedtime. G'night all, don't stay up too late.

Tonight is research, reading books like this one: tinyurl.com/3mzg4rp. Also, I colored in one of Sophie's coloring books for a while.

puttering, puttering, puttering around.

Me: "I miss your sister. She needs to come home and hang out with us again."
Sophie: "Yeah."

going to meet Mr. Pickle.
(not a euphemism)