To Do List

Okay, okay, okay. Gotta get used to posting again. But seriously, I'm still sore and all from the whole. Stabbing thing. Also, Luna keeps spilling things on the freaking keyboard. It's already hard enough to freaking type with freaking hooves and I freaking hate this freaking idea but "Scrivener Blooms if thou does not write in thy magic box journal I shall bring my wrath crashing down upon thy head!"
She hit me.
She hit me again.
I'm apparently not allowed to document how often she pummels me anymore. Mostly because it would take too much time and space to do so. She did suggest I write down a to-do-list, however, which... I think is a good idea, but don't tell her I said that.
So expect... soonishly... an influx of my poems, which I will then figure out how to sort. I don't like these computer things, and worse, they don't like me. And uh... I could do a post on etymology? No, Luna, it's not for nerds. You're a nerd.
Luna is not a nerd. And she wants everypony to know that. Her warrior princessness has also suggested that instead of writing on etymology I tell people how to write. My prompt and acerbic reply was for her to tell people how to be... dumb.
So it wasn't the greatest comeback and I'm also covered in coffee. But I think I will write a post on something like that, too, soonishly. For now, though, I have to go and wash myself off and then tend to my ever-lovely wife and make her a new coffee. Which she'll probably just pour on me again. But that's a fitting metaphor for a writer's life, you know: again and again making people stuff that lights up your mind but they just use to pour all over you and burn you even while they try and convince you to make them another cup. Of words. I stretched that metaphor too far.

~Scrivener Blooms