I keep finding Christmas tree needles in my house. The tree's been down a month and a half, and I do sometimes vacuum and sweep up. Yet, every few days one of these little green slivers appears on the floor. The only logical thing I can conclude is that a pixie lives in my attic and they've got a whole bag of tree needles and they plant them while I'm sleeping. Why? To keep me in the holiday spirit, I assume. It's working. Nice job, pixie.
Anyway, if you're reading this and wondering what that sound is, that'd be me clumsily stumbling into the wider Internet world beyond Facebook. I saw that every writer on earth already has a blog and my inner fifteen year-old said, "Hey you should do that, too," and my outer thirty year-old said, "Oh my God, you better get moving. The techno world is passing you by." So, after grumbling about kids these days and my back, I set this up. Plus Twitter, but I haven't done anything with that as yet. It's all part of making a career of writing, and understanding that, while I'm a hermit at heart, being "out there" is important.
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