Cartoon Network have stopped showing the Powerpuff Girls/Dexter's Lab combo at 11.30 (boo!), so my morning is all shot to hell. I fiddle around and outline the last section of the PARANOIA Traitor's Manual and do my usual round of websites before heading out to lunch.
Lunch is in rebranded shiny new bar/restaurant. The food there is good to very good and moderately priced, and the staff are all alarmingly friendly. I hang around there until my laptop battery dies, writing and drinking tea. My productivity has shot up since I started spending afternoons offline in cafes.
I finish off the last section of Traitor's Manual, give it a quick once-over, and send it off to Mongoose. It's before the revised deadline (the original deadline was last week, but the less said about that...). I also find out that they need another page of text for Quint Paladin II. I'm so happy at finishing the book, I rashly promise to have it done this evening.
I wander off to Other Realms,fluffworld's shiny new game/comic/bookshop/apparently cafe by the end of the week/webcafe at some point too. No more Giants of Legend. Boo. I do grab a copy of Traveller d20 for Nefarious Purposes (and I'm getting a preview copy of d20 Future in the next day or two, too). In HMV, I pick up a new TMBG CD and a budget copy of the Futurama game for the X-Box.
It's a wednesday, so we're playing football. It's all going well until one of the other players accidentally charges into me, driving the frame of my glasses into my cheek. It bleeds rather impressively. I'm more worried about my glasses, which have funky reactive lenses and cost more than a small country. I get a lift out to a friend's house to get cleaned up. Conveniently, it's across the road from my mother's house, so I call in there to pick up mail and continue showing her how to use the internet. (We've almost conquered messenger and hotmail.)
Back home, I finish off the missing bits for Paladin while Aidan plays Morrowind on the X-Box. We hear noise coming from outside. Now, we live five floors above a pub, so the occasional fight or argument isn't unusual, but this is different - lots of breaking glass and stuff falling. Looking over the balcony, we see two guys crying to climb over the fence between a car park and the back of the pub. Watching them for a moment, it becomes obvious that they're trying to carry off crates from the pub. We ring the police, who show up and catch the two in the act of stealing crates of Smirnoff Ice. We get a great god-eye view from the fifth floor. It's like a computer game.
Speaking of which, Futurama is blindingly hard. I switch back to playing the first Buffy game on the X-Box, but can't beat the two telekinetic shrimp monsters. Boo.
Tomorrow, onto writing up monsters for the next book.
I wonder why I wrote this entry, but I'm far more worried about why I wrote it in the present tense.