Near catastrophe...

I did something dumb and took a window seat on the flight from Denver to NYC because it was in the exit row and I got more space. It wasn't a full flight so I was hoping the middle seat would stay vacant. No such luck. One of those people who takes up all the space they can decided she wanted that seat...and proceeded to do her makeup...and dug through a half-dozen weekly mags...and watched videos on her tablet as she crossed and uncrossed her legs and bumped me over and over...saying Sorry each time. I was close to getting up and finding someplace else to sit.

Then I got my drink. A DDP on ice. And I made the stupid mistake of setting it next to my laptop as I shifted in my seat and it spilled on my keyboard. Not a lot but enough to freak me out. My own damn fault. I flipped my laptop over and blotted the mess up and powered down and stuck a bandana between the screen and the keys and left it upside down for a bit then aimed the air vent at it to dry it out...and it seems to be working all right, now.

So instead of writing on the 3 hour flight, I read. And sat. And decided I will never take a window seat, again.

I was working on an interaction between Brendan and Everett, a gay man who helped him and his cousin, Scott, out once night. This is setting up things that will happen later but at the moment seems too on the nose for my taste. I keep telling myself this is a first draft...but I also keep wanting it to be near perfect before I move on. And will keep arguing with myself over it till I'm somewhat happy.

I'm a lost cause as a writer...

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