Good day. Nothing much more to be said. Just good. Walked the dog, built legos with the kiddo, got the oil changed in my car, homeschooled the kiddo, ran some errands, vacuumed the house, did some laundry. Good day.
Then I went to the write in. If I had remembered I needed gas in my car it might have all gone more smoothly but with a little but of ado I finally got there. Once again, just me and one ML, talking way too much. Although sheeintroduced me to George Moore. Have you read any of his stuff? Wow. “It does not matter how badly you paint, so long as you don’t paint badly like other people.” Substitute the word write for paint and that could be the theme of Nano. LOL. And why is it the library always closes just as I am on an epic roll?
Words Today: 2447
Time Spent Writing: Er, 2.5 hours at write in but I’d take an hour off that for chat.
Total Words: 16048
Estimated Completion Date: Dec 2. Still improving.
As I took my place at the counter I was surprised to see email up on the screen. Magda must have an auto start on her email, when I alt-tabbed I brought that up by accident.
I didn’t want to read her mail but one subject line caught my eye.
“Re: Now that the bastard’s dead…”
Wow, was that about Harold Paulson? My hand click on the mouse before I even had time to think about what I was doing.
“Six on Saturday words just fine for us.”
The original message was included below that.
“Now that the bastard is dead, what are we going to do about the missing money? We need to meet and talk about this in private before the rescheduled monthly board meeting. My house. Saturday. How’s six work for you? -Magda”
The message had been sent Thursday night. According to the time stamp it was right around when Magda called me to book this. So Magda knew Thursday the dead man was Harold Paulson. Did Magda have something to do with his death? Or was he the only board member she couldn’t get a hold of Thursday to cancel the meeting and so she assumed? I liked Magda, well as much as one could like a complete self absorbed snooty narcissist, I didn’t really want to think she might be a murderer.
I was reinvigorated for my ease dropping. They were going to discuss Harold tonight, they met for that purpose. I just needed to listen long enough. I crept over to the door and waited. Blah, Blah, Blah Martinique was getting to touristy. Blah, Blah, Blah Mrs. Oswald was sleeping with her yoga instructor. I could have told them that months ago. Wonder if they knew about Mr. Oswald and his personal trainer. Blah, Blah, blah the Smyths were swingers. Ickaroo. I didn’t know that. Then again I rarely cooked for them. Finally the light went on for me to clear dinner. I counted to ten before heading into the dining room.
No character Sketch: You know Tess and everyone else is well, lame.