I nipped off to the local shopping centre to have a haircut today. Not that you’d notice to look at me, all things considered, since in my vernacular having a haircut largely translates as choosing to look like an ill-kept hobo rather than arriving there accidentally. Fortunately, today’s hairdresser was one of the few who understood that was the goal of having a haircut, rather than attempting to try and make me look neat and tidy.
I long ago came to grips with the fact that my hair doesn’t do neat and tidy unless I’m willing to shave most of it off, but for some reason hairdressers seem to take that as a challenge.
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I’m a bit behind on things at the moment. I’m behind at the dayjob, I’m behind on the writing front, and I’m behind on the packing and cleaning plan that will allow me to vacate my flat on the 17th of December with minimal hassles and panic. I suspect there will be a point in the near future when things will calm down a bit, but those points are all in January, which isn’t really helpful when the vast majority of the things I’m behind on have deadlines in December.
‘Course, once I’m done with the December deadlines, I’m done with all the deadlines. 2011 has been a year of many, many deadlines and almost all of them were agreed to back in 2010 when I was an unemployed writer with time on his hands. Not having a deadlines is going to seem…weird as hell, actually. But I plan on celebrating it regardless. Possibly with copious amounts of scotch.
In January I get to start writing at my own pace again. I’ll be endeavouring to knock off a bunch of short stories in the first half of the year, but that’s about as ambitious as I plan on getting for a while.
