The Dirty Dozen–Five

After seven weeks of steady work, Bacon was home all day today. The company where he’s temping needs him again at the end of the month. Until then, he has a few weeks off. Most people would love a random two week vacation, but it’s unsettling. Just when we get a schedule and a budget going, things change. We try to take life a day at a time.

Since the girls were at school, we went out for lunch at one of our favorite places. I used the building in the book I’m writing. In real life, it’s a restaurant. In the book, it’s an after-work watering hole. I wrote a scene where a flamboyant minor character asks the hero, who’s waiting tables, for a specific single-malt Scotch. 

“Nick!” Jessica didn’t miss a beat. “I didn’t know you were moonlighting again.”
Nick smiled. “My uncle’s place. I help out every once in a while.” He placed a cocktail napkin in front of each of us.
“Single-malt Scotch.” Vince had developed a tick in the last few seconds. He blinked to the rhythm of the Jerry Jeff Walker song playing on the jukebox.
“Glenlivit?” Nick asked.
“Do you have Glenfiddich?” Vince hadn’t raised his voice, but he was bothered. He wouldn’t make eye contact.
“I’ll have to check in the back.” Nick was polite. He didn’t react to Vince’s epileptic eyelids.
Vince snarled, “If you don’t, I’ll have an apple martini.”

Today, while we were waiting for a table, we stood at the bar. On a dusty shelf against the wall sat two unopened bottles of Scotch–Glenlivit and Glenfiddich. I felt like I hit a home run. The place actually had the stuff.

After lunch, I came home and wrote my pages. Before, I’ve had trouble writing on transition days. There’s something about having to confess whether I did it or not that’s kept me motivated. I can’t be dishonest to my blog readers, and I don’t want to report that I didn’t do the work. So, thanks for listening.

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