In fact, the marble game is all he did yesterday, I believe.

He's sick, you know.

But getting better, which is good for me because I just can't write when he's sitting next to me. It's not the nose blowing, it's the click click click of his mouse on that damn marble game. And the fact that he always wants to talk about something, share tidbits of news from the net, yell at the cat, something. Or read over my shoulder, lean back and try to see what I'm up to.

I don't take it very well, so I haven't done much these last days. Run and hide in the living room when I can't take it anymore. Went out last night for a bit. Another new friend is moving away. I'm used to it with the life we lead, but it seems to be a mass exodus as of late.

I didn't even get online until 11 pm today.

I started my novel at four minutes after midnight, after venting my frustrations on my NaNoWriMo Blog and surfing a bit before deciding "What the hell, just start the damn thing."

Tomorrow we're going to Porto, large box of Kleenex and cold medication in tow. We're going to visit a port lodge, and maybe some wineries, and certainly many bars. I haven't packed yet, although I did get Elvis to get the small suitcases down.

Pooka Boy is picking us up in seven hours.