It's probably made of cast iron as it weighs a ton and is holding me down. :(
SteveD probably hates me at this moment. I've been struggling with streamlining our chapter into one cohesive narrative, but have failed miserably. Every time I opened our document, it stared back at me. All his prose looking so polished and complete; all my words jumbled and disorganized. I struggled with it, rearranging paragraphs. Editing sentences. Adding headings. Nothing I did made it seem less cobbled together from the writings of a genius (him) and a goober (duh).
I dreamt that he let me hold Emma and I dropped her. When I woke up, I realized it wasn't his actual child I had dropped, but his literary progeny.
The chapter is now back in Steve's hands so that he can strangle me while he whips it into shape with characteristic flair and cussing. I dread being on IMs tomorrow, for he shall surely flail the skin off my computer screen with irritation.
Though I doubt he would ever say or think the same of me, I miss him :)
I am also honestly suffering from the inability to string together bundles of phrases as quickly as I would like. It irks me. Everything I write sounds to me like everything else I've ever done.
Desperately in need of inspiration. Hepl?