My Dreams Are u/ l,Jr"^, \.,rL -er b

I got a new scanner with OCR.  My dreams of simply putting notebook pages down on the glass and having workable first drafts to start from were dashed when a neatly printed list came out as this:

}.;r';?;' ( ,- t. t
a
i.: Pt'atc*c 3cL.r-*r ?5f,2
-_- ( t-l ,. r.t fo< g)
&,o<r" *tFT'o *'-f5(L, ( ,}"t ",, *" i-;' ' ') . n

I can't even tell what that is, even with the original list at hand.

However, a new scanner means the typecasting can resume.

I wanted to write "Story 37" of the 74 Stories Project today but I was waylayed by waiting a geologic age for a flu shot, looking for the appropriate people vitamins for my elderly cat (under a vet's advice:  it took 3 different stores to find the right ones), stopping by the post office, realizing I had forgotten to zerox something important that needed to go into an outbound envelope, talking to the workmen outside my home, today's rejection slip and the rare after-the-flu-shot feeling that I might be getting sick in another few days and ought to lie down fortified by cold orange juice and hot tea.

I may be writing "Story 37" in bed:  it will be a relief to move on to the second half of these stories, there is an overall character arc to them and it will be good to see the narrator moving into the downward slope.

(The apple dish I settled on yesterday was "Apple Charlotte":  very nice but it calls for a lot of diced apples.)

-Lisa Shapter
Read "No Woman, No Plaything" in Kaleidotrope


 

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