Every morning I read over what I wrote the day before as a start to the new day's work. Puts me back in the frame and lets me fix yesterday's blind spots.
Today, one of yesterday's sentences sounded like a country music song. It's from Chapter 24, lined out the way the phrases sound when I read it:
She couldn’t think now
why she’d thought last night
that the last glass
was such a good idea.
Sounds like a refrain, I think, with an up-and-down on 'idea'. I can almost hear the music...
Locally brewed bock beer at the Faust Hotel in New Braunfels.