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There should be some sort of early warning system for work explosions. You know, some loud siren that sounds when you wake up on Monday morning to let you know that by approximately 9.30am you’ll be snowed under, flat out and not doing anything remotely resembling what you had planned for the week. But I think there’s zero chance of that. All I can say is, at least it’s Wednesday night and this week I have Friday off.

Which might give you some idea about how little writing I’ve done. Hopefully six hours on planes (just sitting still for a few hours sounds nice right about now) and some swanning around the Gold Coast with the RWA committee might give me some inspiration, relaxation and maybe a page or two.

We can only hope.

But I have gotten the bulk of the work stuff done (fingers triple crossed), my office is about packed for the move (farewell dear office, parting is such sweet sorrow. And hello cubicle – sorry, cubicles don’t rate Shakespeare), the housework is up to date and I have a list of things to fling into the case when I get home tomorrow night (yes, my name is Mel and I am a Virgo).

So now it’s time to feed the fuzzies and then chill out and perve at Goran on ER for an hour before catching la z’s.

PS Amazon – where’s my copy of Full Moon Rising? You sent it WEEKS ago. Or do I blame Australia Post? Maybe it will turn up tomorrow and I’ll have a great book for the plane. Snort. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.

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