Andrew has come and gone. I remembered to tell him I wrote "Swimming Back from Hell by Moonlight" for him, and he was pleased and astonished (and wanted to read it, so I e-mailed it to him while I still remembered). I'm a little afraid of it now. I'm afraid I got it wrong in ways that only Andrew would know. But I think it'll be all right; I think he'll know how to take it. About half the stories I've written for people have been yelling-at stories. Those are much easier. This one is kind of an "I'm glad there's you" story, or maybe more "I'm glad there's still you," and that's hard. (Hey,
leahbobet, did I send you this one? It's for you, too, but totally differently. Although I am glad there's you, too, it's more a "thanks for the thing that got it started" for than a "speaking from my heart to you" for.) (I think I may have lost all grammar in that sentence. Sigh.)greykev's flight was slightly early. We've been hanging out here since Andrew left. I probably should have done some house-ish things this evening, but I didn't, and I'm not going to start now. So we can just all deal with that fact, I guess. Tomorrow.And it's been snowing for me. Probably at the least convenient time it could have snowed lately, but it's lovely anyway. Snow!
