Feeling Muse-ical or How The Pulp of My Creative Juice Was All Wrapped up in a Bathroom Renovation

Is it just me or is it odd that the Muse has dragged her bony ass out of bed at the exact same time the bathroom floor is being grouted? 

Yes, Biteyites, that’s right. She’s stretched her legs, had some breakfast and is lounging macside in a modest-yet-sexy tankini. She tossed on some Andy Gibb and made suggestions for writing sex scenes, and while the littlest Gibb told me, in his clear falsetto, he just wants to be my everything, she whispered ‘explorer‘ in my ear.

And I was off, off and writing. About Vasco de Gama and Ferdinand Magellan and Men who explore things. With their hands. All for their Queen.

All right. So it’s only a page. It was a very important page. It LIVES, much like the juicy Muse I squeezed this afternoon.

Today, I get my bathroom back and breathe a sex life back into And She Was, and tomorrow, the plumber comes back to replace my toilet, install my sink and hook up the drainpipe on my tub. Then, not only will I have my Muse back and my characters doing it, I’ll be able to have a bubble bath.


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