Miss Dash has been waking earlier with the sun, and that means that she wakes early enough to get into bed before my usual writing time is over and sometimes even before it has begun. Too often lately, I've been writing one story as my wife tells my daughter a different story in bed. Sometimes I get drafted into telling the story.
The other problem is the cat. If he's stuck inside, he wants attention, and if he's outside, he jumps up to the window sill and wants attention. Either way, those little chirpy meows kill my concentration.
I'm up to ironing out the end of Trocacetic. I have no idea where to submit this 10k thing of comedy train-wreckiness.