Okay, there was cheese but it wasn’t all nice and shredded and stored in an easy close bag.
So, the cheese…
I could go to the store, but the only thing that makes me not a recluse is the fact that I have children who force me to leave the house. When they’re at school, I’m inside … with a block of cheese.
Off I went searching and in the very, very back of the cabinets I found this…
I cut a wedge of cheese, figured out how to not shred my knuckles and away we went
Shred, shred, shred!
My triceps started to burn…
Not so bad…
WHAT!?!
Not nearly enough cheese.
Wedge, burn, lift. Ugh.
It continued on and on until… BAM a nacho plate full of cheese.
As the microwave melted my heavenly edit snack I was thinking:
1. No wonder our grandmas had toned arms.
2. No wonder our moms weren’t really over weight.
3. Shredding cheese is a whole lot like writing a book.
Just when you think you’ve put the finishing touches on the thing, you open up the critique partners or beta readers’ comments and realize… not enough yet and go back to shredding.
*sigh*
But one day, one day it’ll be ready and hopefully an agent will open their microwave and say, “YUMMY!!!! I need this book!!!!”