I'm not sure that's an excuse for being hip-deep in a short story called "Uncle Flower's Homecoming Waltz," but it's all the excuse I have.
Possibly I could blame my upbringing. Hmm. That's always a fruitful tactic, and in this case it might even be justifiable. The people who raised me on folk songs and Jethro Tull Have Much To Answer For.
I have considered retitling this lj, "Force of Nurture." But I've also considered retitling it, "Get Off Me, I'm From Minnesota" (rejected due to unfriendliness) and "Still Kicking, No Daylight Yet," which only makes sense if you know one of the incarnations of "Lovers in a Dangerous Time" and isn't all that cheerful if you do. And I am, as we all know, a bloody-minded optimist.
Hmm. Perhaps "Pool of Congealing Daylight" is more like it.
Aaaaand perhaps I should go attempt to nap again, it having reached the fateful 4:00 hour when things look Worse, or sometimes just Sillier, and in either case get Capitalized more.
