I finished the book! And then I collapsed. There was brain melting in front of the TV on Friday night, then a lot of lying around on Saturday and a movie night in front of the TV that evening. More lying around on Sunday. Which means today is Get Stuff Done Day. I need to clean the house, catch up on some business stuff like bookkeeping, start coming up with some promotional ideas to give all my books a boost (the new one seems to be vanishing into the ether, which is rather alarming), and start getting ready for WorldCon. Eep.
The towering to-do list just makes me want to curl up in a corner and ignore it all, but I suppose I really must be an adult about it.
Saturday night's movie was The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, which I loved on some levels but also found a little frustrating. It started so well, then petered out in the last quarter or so before tacking on an ending that was nice but that seemed to come abruptly out of nowhere because of the petering out. Stan, my ghost, is totally falling down on the job for not dictating guaranteed bestselling books to me (I know the stuff I write can't possibly have been dictated by Stan. It's not his style).
Oh, and in case you're new and don't know about Stan, Stan is my imaginary ghost who gets blamed for anything I can't find. I figure that if something isn't where I expect it to be, someone must have moved it, and since I live alone that must mean I have a ghost. He must be very fond of 80s music because those are the CDs that tend to disappear, and that makes sense because this house was built in 1984, and I have the wallpaper evidence that it was initially a very 80s bachelor pad. The target homeowners for these houses were airline crews, as we're very close to the airport and the floorplan seems designed for roommates, with both bedrooms being "master" suites and two living areas. So I made up this whole backstory of the swinging 80s bachelor airline pilot who died tragically and now haunts this townhouse, moving my stuff around.
But that movie made me want to write some kind of ghost romance. I'm not sure how it would work, though, and it's not like I need more story ideas at the moment, given the number of fictional universes currently running around in my head. Maybe I should just write the chronicles of my life with Stan, which would not be a romance, more like the story of a not entirely peaceful coexistence. How's this for a title: "If You're Going to Mess with My CDs, At Least Alphabetize Them"?
But that's a project for later. I have Stuff To Do today.