Friday October 3rd, 2014

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the destination.

In an utterly unsurprising turn of events, I have been infected with Max's cold. This is less than ideal.

Still going to the market tomorrow, but I'm leaving Kat and Max at home. No way I'm dragging him out of bed early to go hang out in the early morning cold. I'm not crazy about having to do that myself, but I'll manage. Through the power of coffee.

Also: one of Kat's cousins will be there to help for the first part of the market. She came a couple weeks ago to watch Max for us, so she already has a basic idea of what needs to happen.

We'll mostly have apples to sell, once again, but I did find a few pints of cherry tomatoes this morning after the garden dodged another frost warning bullet. There are four crates of plums on the truck as well.

The weather is supposed to be nice, so that will make things easier. If the forecast had even the slightest chance of rain in it I'd be staying home.


"You know what they say dear," my husband says with what is rather obviously false cheer, "life is about the journey, not the destination!"

I say nothing. I don't need to. We both know that this rat-infested bed and breakfast was not worth the time, effort, or even fuel we expended to get here.


Greg said...

Yeah, I think we all knew you were going to catch Max's cold. Don't worry, children do eventually stop being a reservoir of disease :-D I hope the market goes well for you, and that your coffee thermos is neverending!
Heh, I think your grumpiness with the cold is turning into a way to punish your characters; the ones today appear to be destined to suffer!

The destination
"You know, I think destiny and destination have the same root word," said Sam's mother, a thin trickle of blood running up her forehead. Sam twisted slightly to try and see her, sending a jolt of pain up her arm and said, "So you think it was our destiny to end up here?"
"Upside down in a crashed car with coyote howls drawing ever nearer?" mused her mother with a terrible calmness. "... probably not."

Marc said...

Greg - yes, probably around the time they move out...

Heh, I quite like Sam's mother. She seems quite level-headed!