Out-of-Towners.

I hate hosting distant relatives from out-of-town. It's always last-minute, and during the weekend when you had plans for wallowing in self-pity - I mean, when you had a lot of writing to get done.

Woke up at 2:00 p.m. today. Arms are sore from yesterday's underarm flab-busting exercises.

5:13 p.m. Sitting at Panera drinking coffee and munching on an oatmeal raisin cookie. Good to get out of the house. Sit in a different, public space away from the parents.

Did not look at a single job description yet today. Yay me.

5:31 p.m. Am at 20,733 words. SO, about 13,000 words behind schedule. And a dozen, since I still haven't taken out the date stamps that are nestles all throughout.

Went to obligated dinner with parents and distant relative and his two friends. They are 19, 20 year-olds. His friends would be lookers in a few years, I gathered.

Getting tired of being surrounded by guys that I have no interest in.

Unless I just turn cougar at some point.

2:00 a.m. 21, 056 words.

Checked application status on one job website. There were also no new postings on it.

Looked up questionable ailments on the web.

3:00 a.m. 22,013 words. Yeah, bitches! MOVING RIGHT ALONG!

Described a scene where one of the characters is shirtless. Realized that there are lots of super attractive young men in my novel. I really need to get some in real life.

I suppose that makes this very much a fantasy world. Like Twilight. Everyone just happens to be ripped. Alright, fantasy world of my novel. I'm game.