At least there's a reason for all this wackiness.

This morning's shot. I got in early, but instead of writing I flitted from distraction to distraction and got not a single word written. Unless you count the e-mail I sent to a Craigslister advertising a really cute, recently renovated 2 bedroom duplex in one of our target neighborhoods, but I'm pretty sure that doesn't count.

The upside is that some of my distractions involved job-related tasks, so I can charge that hour and get some overtime. Overtime is good.

Here are some random links I came across in my scatterbrained wanderings this morning.

Joss talks of Angel: Season 6. Two thoughts make that three: one - Eeeeee!; two - I don't normally go in for non-canonical Whedonverse comics, but now I have to get Spike: Asylum; and three - that shot at the bottom of the article always chokes me up. Always. *sniffle*

The Fantasy Writer's Exam (via Miss Snark). Test your book to see if it's yet another a Tolkein ripoff. Mine passes (or maybe it fails? I'm not sure what the perspective is there), probably mostly by virtue of being an urban fantasy. So it's more of a Gaiman/Whedon/Butcher ripoff, really.

Isn't this a cute duplex?

***

Update from about an hour later, because I got distracted and busy and forgot to hit "publish," which should tell you a little something about the kind of day I'm having.

I must be PMSing. Exhibit A: Yesterday on the drive home, my regular radio station wouldn't come in for some reason, so I switched over to the news (our CBS station comes in on the radio here; I have no idea if that's universal), and apart from bawling over a segment the local news did on a VA Tech victim from Tulsa, when it went to national news and Katie Couric started talking about Iran becoming a nuclear power, I very nearly had a panic attack. It was the same kind of tight-throated, constricted breathing, sick stomach, scared poopless feeling I used to get when I was a kid at the height of the Cold War and we lived in fear of The Button and our teachers made us watch The Day After and write reports on it and ensured we wouldn't get any more peaceful sleep that year. Which was, I admit, a little over the top, and not really my normal reaction to that kind of news, and I think that's a pretty good indicator of PMS right there.

But if that's not enough, I give you Exhibit B: CAG called in sick (again) this morning. I have a ginormous drawing package going out this evening that will likely take up most of my day (and probably get me another hour or two of overtime tonight), and now I'm also responsible for whatever her team's got going on today. Sure enough, one of her people called to tell me he's also got a major drawing issue going out today. I didn't quite have a panic attack that time, but I did very nearly have a meltdown, and after I hung up the phone I had to put my head in my hands and sit that way for a while, taking deep breaths and willing myself not to cry. Also an admitted overreaction.

I managed to pull myself together, by the way, and when I mentioned it to one of my project teammates he reassured me that the other team's drawings and distribution lists are really small compared to ours, and that one should be fairly quick and easy to handle, but if I still feel overwhelmed, they'll find me some help. I work with nice guys.

At any rate, the weird panic and overreacting plus the more-extreme-than-usual scatterbrained-ness plus the dwindling supply of blue pills in my birth control compact all add up to PMS. Happy happy joy joy.