silly me

So, last night I was sitting here trying to create a crossword puzzle (long story) which, it turns out, is a lot more fun than actually doing crossword puzzles.

I was surprised at how much graph paper I was wasting. I had to switch to pencil.

The coming up with clues - that's the instant gratification part. It gets one geared up for the fitting-all-the-words-together part.

Seeing as I don't believe in having any black squares or spaces in a crossword (though, admittedly, I never do them - crossword puzzles - I don't like them), the second part was trickier, not as fun, but more like science (almost).

Or like math. Math using letters. Which is ok. So, a few hours had gotten away from me. I noticed that the sun went down, but I continued working by the light of the window anyway. I just didn't want to stop and mess up my momentum.

Eventually I was working in the dark, but by then my eyes had adjusted to the light from the street, and, really - it didn't matter. I could (by then) feel via instinct where the squares were. Then my boyfriend called. To see how I was. And we spoke for a few minutes. About this and that. His day, my day, bla-di-bla.

And, finally, he said something about the sandwich. Which was a relief. Because I really wanted to reiterate that I felt it was a bland sandwich. That, in no way, was that sandwich what I had intended (and would like another chance), etc, etc.

He argued this point with me a bit. He said that he thought it was a good sandwich. And I think he meant it. But then he said something about mustard.

I hadn't thought of that.

Mustard.

Of course.