I started off reading blogs and checking Amazon like a manic author. Sales slowed since the first big spike, but they're still happening, so yay.
About my third cup of coffee, I modified a couple of short stories, then wrote a Macabre Macaroni style micro-fiction. It needs some help, but it exists; therefore, it can be repaired.
I took my truck to the body shop. It's going to take a week to do the repairs, and they have to take the bed off. I need a new running board, and he's going to check my alignment. My insurance will provide me with wheels during that week.
I took a week off work, and it happens to be that week. My son and I are going fishing one day and he's going to have to drive. I plan on doing some marketing and writing that week too. I took a gander at my novel, and it needs words. There is nothing wrong with it, and I've figured out my issues. Now I need to write it.
When I got home, I pulled out my loppers and saw and attacked the peach tree. There are about 500 pounds of branches to run through my chipper. I'll let them dry for a week and try it. There are a few open flowers on it, and I'm not worried. Pruning this late may stunt the tree, but that's a bonus. It's a backyard tree and doesn't need to be fifteen feet tall.
I still have a crabapple to prune. Maybe I'll tackle it tomorrow. There's also a huge climbing rose, but it needs to green up a little so I can tell which parts need pruned.
My wife took her break at work and logged on to The Morrison Center to buy tickets. This venue holds 5000 people. Over the course of five days they will hold eight performances. The whole thing sold out in fourty-five minutes. Their system crashed because of all the traffic. She called the box office instead. We are two of the lucky people who have tickets to see The Book of Mormon in July. Other people stuck with the Internet, and didn't get tickets. We have to go on a Sunday afternoon, but we're going.
Now I have to figure out how to pay for all this. “Psst, hey buddy, wanna buy a book?” I could probably make money by re-selling my tickets, but my wife would kill me.