(no subject)

Unless I call out sick from work—not outside the realm of possibility; I feel horrid—my word count for the day is 175. Of which only 109 words are good words. I have problems with this 'internal editor' thing.

Sistrums jangled, cymbals chimed, castanets clacked, dancers stamped. Meritamun, princess of Kemet, poured a measure of beer for the goddess Hathor and another for herself.