Day twelve.

You know what's unsettling? When your dog wakes you from a sound sleep by barking and barking, staring toward the window with his hackles raised, growling, for upwards of half an hour. Needless to say, I didn't get back to sleep for quite a while and I'm thusly a little foggy-brained this morning in a way that coffee can't seem to penetrate.

I don't have a whole lot to report. I wrote a lot yesterday, and I'm thoroughly pleased with myself as a result. At this point, I've established my characters to a point where there's really no question as to what they're going to do; as long as I keep my fingers on the keyboard, and my attention away from stupid-ass Facebook, the story is going to write itself. It's a pretty excellent feeling.

It's a little cooler today, but still fairly warm out. During the night, a massive patch of open water appeared on the river channel, where a week ago I felt that disconcerting creaking. This isn't water over ice, either—this is completely open water that extends from out of my view to the east past the sand bar and onto the lake proper.

I need to either get or make water today; the huge pile of dishes from Nick's visit, to say nothing of the hangover dehydration that followed, wiped out my water supply and I've only got about a gallon and a half left. There's not a whole lot of clean snow anywhere anymore, so this may require a trip to the Indian store to buy something so he'll let me fill my containers.

The dog has a new adorable thing: he begs for snow. When I'm out walking, I'll often grab a handful of snow to suck on, and he's come to be as interested in this as he would be in, say, a chunk of bacon. I'll offer him some, and he'll take a polite little bite, then continue watching my hand. It's pretty cute.

Onto writing!