And I’ve reached the point where I can’t go much further in my novel without a trip to Charlottesville to visit a winery, an all night Harris Teeter and an expensive restaurant. Then I will be forced to go to Brooklyn so I can walk around Cobble Hill and visit a moderately priced restaurant and bookstore in Williamsburg. Tough being a writer.*
I’m actually going to do all this. It’s expensive being a writer.**
*The above is a classic example of irony. You’re welcome.