In which Naomi cleans her bathroom
Yes. I cleaned my bathroom this weekend. I don't want to give the impression that I never clean my bathroom, because I do, but rarely more than once a month because I'm lazy and believe that moving dust from one part of the room to another is just bad for my asthma. But this weekend, I went to town, because my parents came over and Mum nearly had a fit when she saw the state of the bathroom.
I was promptly whisked into Cambridge and bought new bath towels, mats, bins, pedestal mats and a plethora of cleaning materials, all paid for by Mum and Dad on the provision that I scrubbed my shower from top to bottom. I did. My shower is lemony fresh and my floor is sparkling and my new towels are wine red, which pleases me. The problem is, my lino needs replacing and the chipboard underneath is soaking wet, and are my landlords getting off their arses to fix it? No. They're taking their sweet time as they always do. (Please note,
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In other news, I finished the first draft of my gay werewolf story. The deadline for submission is November 30, so I've got a couple of weeks to go through it and polish it up before sending it off
And I have a new critique partner in the form of the very talented
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The Institute is holding an open day today, with lots of industry types coming along to talk about fluids and such. I've pretty much organised the whole thing single handedly, so if it all goes wrong, it's all my fault. Nervewracking, to say the least. But that's what happens when they leave me in charge.
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I'm so looking forward to our trading words. Let me know when you're ready, and I can shoot Dead Man's Hand your way. I'd send Dawson's Law, but I'm still writing that first draft.
Snookies!
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