*yawn*

Up at 6 a.m. to take the kitten for his, er, snippage, after staying up 'til midnight last night ... stupid, stupid artist creature. Poor cat ... he can't have any food because of his surgery, and he's all like: "Where's my breakfast, woman?!"

Yesterday was a good day, creatively. I'm basically done with the book. All I need to do is write the back cover copy (which I hate, especially for THAT book because it's so hard to describe), slap a bar code on it, give the interior pages a final once-over for typos, and upload. I should be able to get it all done tonight.

(no subject)

I was expecting a lot more hate from the cat, but instead, he's turned into a snuggly codependent bundle of need. I mean, clearly he doesn't know what was REALLY done to him, but he certainly knows that we stuck him in the Noisy Box of Doom and handed him over to a bunch of people who poked him with needles and made his butt sore. Considering that even the dogs sulked after getting spayed, I was expecting to deal with a prickly cat-cactus for a couple of days, but instead, he's been clamped to one or the other of us ever since getting home. All he wants to do is sleep on our laps. If the lap gets up and walks away (say, to get a drink of water), the cat follows, and then sits there next to your feet, listing slightly from being stoned on pain medication and anesthesia, until you take pity on him and give him a lap again.

His name, by the way, is now officially Shiva the Destroyer, not that he's being very destroyer-ly at the moment.

I've been trying to write the bloody back cover copy for this book for two freakin' hours. It's driving me nuts. I'm starting to write utterly goofball things like help wanted ads for the main characters ("Wanted: Translator for godforsaken outpost in middle of nowhere. Must enjoy travel, meeting interesting people. Familiarity with demigods a plus").