Plot. One of the bestest parts of taking a day off of writing in order to plot is that you can delight yourself with the details. The first time I forged through the section currently in front of me, the people at the farmhouse were mindless zombies. Now, I've met them, I know where they live, and I know who they remind me of. Cool. I have to throw in something about the...jeez. What do you call those things?
It's a big refridgerator unit, full of earthworms on one side and fish on the other. Bait machine. Bait unit. Bait something.
Tangent: I went to a training class on customer service for work. Customer service is the big focus of W.F. in 2003, you know. (The focus of 2002 was positive change, i.e., surviving chaos. W.F., among other things, introduced the first new equity product in twenty years. The new revolution is a home refinance process that doesn't suck ass. It'll be a miracle.) Anyway. Besides listening to a woman with an English accent (Norwich) all day, I was also amused by an exercise in which we were interviewed and had to lie about one thing during our interviews. I stuck in factual but fantastic-sounding information: I went to a country school in the middle of nowhere; we had no running water. None of the Americans could believe it, but the English woman said that I certainly didn't have two children. Boing!
And further, I've taken baths in my grandmother's tin bathtub.