I drove to the cottage last night through spurts of driving rain. I wasn't a fan of it at the time, since I was so sleepy towards the end, but it was late and traffic was light, and I only saw one animal (possum), and... I don't know. I had been planning to stay home last night and edit, then drive out this morning, but work was beyond crazy yesterday, and I knew the drive would unwind me. It did. I feel like a bobbin half-unreeled.
I unloaded the guinea pigs, came in, wrote five hundred brand new words on a brand new thing, and fell into bed. Woke from vaguely troubled but unremembered dreams to bright sun on distant trees and a storm-dark lake. But the storm is receding, and the dreams fled long ago. I think I have bad dreams to exorcise the bad thoughts from my psyche--and if I don't remember them, or carry them with me in emotion, then I feel that they did their job.
The guinea pigs are here because, for longer weekends, it's easier to bring them out than to ask someone to come in and check on them. We already bring Diabetic Cat with us on weekend trips, so what's another two pets? It's better for them to socialize with us all weekend than to see someone dumping food at them for ten minutes, anyway. I rather like writing next to them--they are cute but generally unobtrusive.
I guess that's all I've got right now. What's everyone else doing for the weekend?