I gave up on trying to sleep so now I’m reading Horns by Joe Hill (Stephen King’s son). I’m up to chapter seven.
I have no idea where my muse is. She’s probably trying to sign on to the Obamacare website or something. Either that or she ran off with the neighbor’s gardener again. It pisses me of because Obama promised me “If you like your muse, you can keep your muse. Period.” I hope I don’t have to get a new, higher-priced muse.
But without a muse I can’t write so all you get is this open thread.