Waiting For The Bus

September 8, 2011

Where Am I?
Home from work
Feeling: Tired but Ready to go Out (BassNectar concert) (yes, it's Thursday) (yes, I'm going to work tomorrow)
Doing: cooking spaghetti & doing mani/pedi
Listening to: Alphabetically from Swedish Mafia, System of a Down and now T-pain & Tatu

Story Byte:
Well, the last byte was from a story that I'd previously been working on, and I really feel like I don't need more story ideas, more than I need will-power to sit down and review my archived ideas and already-started stories.

Remember The Manse? Well, I updated it and made it so that the ending makes more sense and flows better. It really needed that. Haven't posted it yet though. I may see about getting it published again, or entering it into a contest. But this is really considered writing is it... it's just updating. Let's see here....

The snow drove down in big white clumps only to land on the frozen ground in front of the relentless snowplow, which shoved the new flakes into hard packed gray ridges by the side of the road. Bree stood aside to let the dutiful machine pass. Shrugging her backpack up higher, she wished, not for the first time, that the school would put their textbooks on the Kindle. Oh well, at least it was a workout while waiting for the bus to arrive. Across the road, old Mrs. Shriver shuffled by with her tennis-footed walker.  I can't believe she's out here in the ice and snow with only those old moccasins and a shawl. A junior-high sized boy skated by, zig-zagging on the sidewalk to miss the old lady. His board promptly flipped, landing him in the freshly plowed snow. He shot a dirty glance toward the oblivious elder, dusted himself and took off again.