Day 9....drillers are ba-a-a-ck

Here I am, trying to write this story about an underpaid junior copywriter at a big TO advertising agency who has to live in her absent boss' Yorkville condo to take care of a priceless bonsai named The Duchess. My main character is feeling weird living in the exquisite luxury building and being catered to by an army of doormen, elevatormen, and Pusateri's delivery guys.

I should be deep into the witty observations of life in the Tenderloin District, and having my main character bump into the wealthy love interest who turns out to be one of her father's college chums........but instead my brain is awash with the droning of those inhuman drills underneath my window. And some sort of banging noise coming from the condo construction site across the street. It sounds like five or six guys bashing out BMW X5 windshields with lead-lined steel guitars. (but I checked...that isn't it).

What's a writer to do? The answer is always the same. More coffee. Stronger coffee. And perhaps something doughy.

Things I'm learning today...
-there is something called cat poo coffee
-it comes from real cat poo
-I must get my paws on some
-and must pick up some Listerine breath strips along the way ;)