Tony forgot his wallet today, so I met him for lunch at Highland's Coffee Shop on 4th Street and now I'm hanging out waiting for my 2 PM Chiropractor appointment. Yep, doing the whole coffee shop writer thing. They even have one chair with a massage pad thingy, so I'm sitting at that. It's okay. Not as good as the real thing.
I've tied some pieces together and I'm about to work on one of the big scenes (George turns and finds out his parents are still alive...well, dead, kind of, since they are vampires. But not gone.).
The entire Sahara desert has taken up residence inside my mouth. This isn't just normal dry mouth. If my feet caught on fire and I was dancing around in flames, I don't think I could work up enough saliva to even spit on it to save myself.