It's the end of my writing week and I've got some writing to do to make what is a demanding quota that I've managed to hold myself to for 13 straight full weeks, which is a thing because there's the partial weeks because I divide my months as neat as they can be.
The last days of each month are lesser weeks and I don't have a quota for those.
All this to say that I got writing to do, which ideally would include the quiet doings of the man known as Patriotus Red, Edward Trent, but I've sent him a couple of texts, an e-mail, called him on the landline and even thought of getting on my bike to bike over to his place which is an hour by bike.
And I could too because I my bike is fit for the road thanks to the tire inflation that I recently got done when the tuneup of the bike became a thing that was going to cost me the rest of the season.
Of course, I still haven't ridden my bike since that day so I'm not any further ahead on that front.
And now I've discovered that I don't know where my helmet is.
Ugh.
But you understand, that I'm not old eh, I'm only 48 and while that's old for sports, starting a family, having a lengthy career, I've still got the possibility of another 50 years of good living.
If I don't get hit in the face, well brain, with Alzheimers at some point and my health remains good an the world doesn't turn to...
Well, you know...
Luckily I think that I've decided I won't ride again in July but will ride in August and September for a total of thirty times.
But not without the helmet and I don't want to be buying a new one when the old one is still good.
I won't be storying up in the third to the same size of crop with the first visit to Mortuvhen today, but it was still a good harvesting and this is just a break from the story, not the wall, even though right now as I set the story back down for another five hours, which would make my next visit be at 20:42, which I trust I don't have to express in the other way.
The 24 hour clock is simply, add 12 to any time and that's how you express it.
It's really that simple.
And no, that's not meant to be confrontational, even if it seems like an assault.
I come with the love of doing my thing and only hope that one day, this will rewarded in the way that matters much.
Financially.
I just found a portal to another world.
Admit it, you're jealous.
And with this thought that I've just had, I might be dropping off with stories happening at a moment's notice.
A different narrator for each day?
There's a thought.
Damn, I'm almost,,,
What's the word?
Talented, funny, engaging
Could I keep up with seven different narrators? Well, I could start with sseven and winnow it down again.
Then again, it would be nice if I was doing this for actual human people who would be reading me.
But that hasn't happened yet.
Of course, I can't give up yet, not when I've just paid for the site for three years.
Unless I'm going to ask for a refund.
I'm not going to ask for that though.
I have to give this the effort that it deserves.
I'm going to have pizza bakc to back aren't I?
I have other food, but I want Pizza tonight even though getting it might hurt the drive to the 20th field this week as I am going to need to harvestalmost two whole fields tonight.
Oh bother.
If I say in, not only will I write for another hour and harvest my way to two fields with a whole quarter left to finish out the remaining 20 fields more easily if I buy the Pizza.
Only I want the sliceage and am willing to run the risk of falling short of the 20 fields this week and ending the string of 20 field weeks at 13.
This is very practicey right?
And I don't think that I'm going to get unpracticey in the rest of the hour.
So I should go now.