Random attack of the frizzy haired writer

It will rain at some point today. You can tell by looking at the mass of poofy Medusa waves emanating from my scalp.  Hair spray or some other product probably would help tame the beast, but I have this habit of tugging on my hair while I am thinking or shoving my hands into it when I am frustrated.  I do this a lot while writing, and I hate the feel of hairspray.  It breaks my concentration among other things.

I am at a coffee shop today.  They are used to me and don’t say anything about my space cadet stare or my frizzy hair.  They just hand over my tea, take my money, make polite inquiries about how my book is coming, and then leave me alone.

The sky outside is heavy with gray clouds.  It makes me sleepy.  I knew if I wanted to have a chance of getting any writing done today, then I had to leave the house.  If I hadn’t, I would probably be asleep on the couch right now with the cat curled up next to me and an open book on my chest.
…Man that sounds good….*yawn*   Okay, time to get to work.  If I get enough done, I may end up taking that nap.

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