Can't Spell Ungainly Without "U"

Reached 300 pages last night. Here's the first exchange from that particular page:

“What about the squid ink?”
“I don’t care,” she said, taking off the sweater and tying it around her waist. She was burning up. “It probably tastes like shit anyway.”
“This is exactly why men don’t go to the bathroom together,” Nathan said, patiently untying the sweater from her waist and putting it over his arm. “Should I be calling your lawyer? Transferring large sums of bail money to my account before they freeze yours?”

Not as classic as the "my kitten's a whore" line, but it'll do. It also occurred to me when I was writing last night that I'm probably going to be able to finish this first draft before I leave for Chicago if I really put my mind to it. Lucky for me that I really love putting my mind to it when it's something like this.

Of course, it doesn't stop me from freaking out about various and sundry items such as whether or not a person would actually flip out over her boyfriend saying something shitty (I would, but I'm nuts), or if digging Xanax out of a vacuum bag is really funny or just tragic.

Yesterday I had a handful of Oreos and a glass of milk for lunch. Today I'm having a glass of sweet tea and some peanut butter crackers. The current theme is "things you can eat with one hand while you edit with the other." One day they will find me dead in my apartment with a highlighter and a manuscript, a half-eaten bag of Sun Chips by my hand and cats swarming over me like ants. Perhaps I should take up smoking.