From Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale

People disappear when they die. Their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living mempry of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continut to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humour, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.

--Diane Setterfield



Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Deadlines

Stupid project.
I almost have you conquered. Almost done... and the drawer slides are not right... and the putty is not putty-ing right... and the drawers are too big for the drawer cabinets... and MY DEADLINE IS TOMORROW!
I could be working on it right now but I'd rather write a blog while Scott gets a movie going. I can either meet or break my deadline tomorrow. We will know by the end of the day tomorrow.
In a few minutes:
Here are pictures of the project so far.
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1 comment:

Catherine said...

You'll finish it up soon enough, even if you do end up missing the deadline. This was no small project to take on, and quality work takes TIME. =)

September 1, 2010 at 6:46 AM

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