It’s been a weird old couple of weeks. It seems as though all kinds of crazy things have been going on around me yet I’ve been working is an ever more insular bubble. Not working on fiction for the most part, mores the pity, just ploughing through some busy times and freelance opportunities.

I’ve barely looked at the blog, watched the election squabbling with square and frightened eyes and spent what free time I’ve had catching up on some reading. The house move has also reminded me quite how much time I was squandering on net-surfing – how many times have I accidentally opened Firefox out of habit only to be shot down? Am embarrassing number.

It seems that there are plenty of other ways to procrastinate though, I don’t think I’ve ever done as many dishes. I feel a little like I’m in limbo, floating along with the soap suds as I try not to swallow the dishwater and drown myself in domesticity and deadline of the white collar world. It’ll be ok, I’ll make myself a paper boat painted with words soon and sail my way back to fiction-land. And then I’ll have an actual, um, update. Maybe.