Did I miss another day yesterday? Damn. The problems of being underslept and overwhelmed, I think. I had intended to write one at the end of the work day, boasting of word count (5,800 or so, I seem to remember?), but events overtook me and instead I ended up vacuuming the house instead. (Don’t ask.)
Yesterday was an odd one, though; Leonard Nimoy’s death knocked me for a loop. He’s one of those guys who I remember from being a kid, this recognizable figure way back before anyone else (It was the ears and that haircut); even though I never met him, the idea of a world without him feels that much lesser. Pushing through that personal reaction to write about his death for work was this odd moment of “I want to be confessional, but I can’t.”