That's right, people. My blog is R-rated. So don't read on, because you know there's dirty porn if you continue scrolling down.
I'm blogging from the CPL. One of the reasons I love writing here is because their walls are actually gigantic glass windows. You can see everything outside. The library is surrounded by trees and one side has quaint little brick streets. Especially when autumn (my favorite season) comes around and all the leaves start changing colors, this is the ideal place to get my write on. Also, there is a cafe downstairs. Could this place be any more perfect? I'm about to go down and get a strawberry-banana smoothie in a few minutes.
I wrote 1,700 words last night, albeit for my fan fiction story. It's on a roll. I'm going to write until I get sick of it, and then I'll switch over. I don't want to throw water on a fire that is crackling merrily. I don't want to rain on my parade.
So I don't have much to say, other than that, I'm going to milk this afternoon (and night) for what it's worth, since I have 300 pages to read by Monday and a British history test coming up next week.
He wanted to sleep for the rest of the weekend. He checked his watch. Five o’clock. Cassie would be coming over in three hours. It was so unfair. Here he was a twenty-nine-year-old man, and every time there was a disturbance within a hundred mile radius, he was still the one to call. Didn’t they have up and coming heroes for this? Oh, right. None of them were well-trained enough. Camp Half-Blood evidently had better liability rules now about not getting so many of the trainees knocked off before their sixteenth birthday. That would’ve been super convenient in my day. He closed his eyes and groaned. Gods. “In my day?” What am I, forty-nine going on fifty? I need a nap.
His cell phone vibrated on the table. Annabeth's number. Cassie wouldn’t be calling him at this time. She would be doing her homework. Annabeth was very strict about Cassie getting her homework done before going off to play. Most likely, it was Annabeth calling to say she couldn’t bring their daughter over, or she was going to be late, or maybe she just wanted to berate him about signing the papers again.
He screened the call.