Go away. You're letting the Monday in

so far, I have managed a load of laundry, a work out, some writing, some reading and Sons of Anarchy, 1 episode. I have started port steaks in the crockpot for supper.

I have to go to the gas station, the music store, the credit union and my allergy shot.

I have an Ellora's Cave check and a Pink Petal check. EC is selling books hand over fist at 1.99 a copy. While I love that people are reading me, it makes for a disappointing check to see you sold 145 books and made barely $50. 86 copies of Ellora's cavemen. $10.70. FOOOO!
but 86 more people reading my steampunk stuff!

Time for a shower.
Still all wheezy.

Six sentence Sunday (on Monday)

From Hard Reboot:

David's head hurt. It hurt all the time now, like the buzzing of small bees in his sinus cavities, with larger hornets rattling around in his brain pan. He had finally managed to deactivate the docilization chip he'd worn for twenty years. He wasn't sure the pain was worth it.

Ariel had tricked him into its installation in their youth, saying it was experimental and would silence the demonic voices that tormented him, the ones that drove him to hide behind a Torah scroll in payment for the deeds he committed when they took control. He still did not like to think of the trail of bodies, random street urchins, the occasional adult, he had left behind him, or of the way Ariel had begged him once, begged to be kept and dominated and used. He had let his brother out of the bonds then and refused to ever top again.