Location: Unchanged.

So where did I spend the majority of my weekend?

Here.And where was I until ungodly hours last night?

Yeah, here.
And I’m actually sitting here right now.

I have SO MUCH writing to do that it has confined me to this chair. But I feel it my duty, dare I say my “call”, to give you, my bloggites, your deserved daily attention. And possible entertainment. But no guarantee.

Please take notice of a few items in my guest room/writing room/current jail cell.

1) Swirly mug on desk. Mmm…. British tea. My mom told me when I bought the swirly plates, bowls, and mugs, that it would be my “college” pattern and I would not like it later in life. She apparently underestimated my ability to be thrifty and stubborn. 9 years later and we’re still rockin’. And no, I will not tell you whether I still genuinely like it or not.

2) Words on wall. Well, attempted words on wall. Blame Justin. I tried to be cool like him. But I had no paint. I did have ….. how do you say … super jumbo sharpies. And did you know that black sharpie fades to a beautiful shade of ORANGE SHERBET on a khaki wall? Well it does. Miracle- you can actually SEE one of the markers I used. It’s on the desk. It’s blue. Even dumber idea.

3) My bookshelf is messy. And there are piles of books [it’s an expensive addiction] and other sundry items all around. I have no “because” statement to follow that. I’m just assuring you that I realize the situation and will remedy the problem as soon as I quit having a life.

4) I have fake nails. With all this changing and the complete redo of my life plans (no biggie), it caused me to bite my nails until they BLED. G-ross. So, for my own sanity and so people weren’t repulsed by my hands, I bucked up and got fake nails. If I had a dollar from every joker who make a prom reference, Candace would need to pay up.

5) The look on my face. Have you ever tried to read your own writing more than ten times attempting to edit and make it better? Me either. I made it to nine and then began seeing words in other languages and wishing I was a prize boxer instead of sadly writer’s blocked writer.

On that note, I have 90 minutes to outline an entire book. Again, no biggie. Yeah right. Mild panic is bubbling beneath the surface, but luckily I just got back from Torture-ville at school and my muscles have no strength to panic.

So I type on……

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