twelve weird things

We've been playing "Six Weird Things" over at my Journalscape journal.

I was tagged twice, so instead of six I have twelve.

( text )

when life meets, er, art

And that's not saying that what I'm writing right now is art; it ain't.

I have convinced myself, however, that I could very possibly write popular fiction, and I'm not convinced this is something to be proud of.

In any event, I was writing my happy little story, and the phone rang for one of my lovely little protags when my own phone rang.

Now, I haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately due to children and my apparently temporarily insane cat. We're talking about three hours a night, and I don't function so well on three hours a night. We've been running on a good amount of faith and built up caffeine, apparently. So when I say that the phone ringing in my story and then in real life was an incredibly surreal moment and felt very liminal, as if I were in between both worlds literally, you'll understand how this could be.

I really need to go to bed.