exist inside my mouth this morning. Before you decide that I, genius that I am, concocted that particular brilliant line, please note that it comes from The Ravenous Muse by Karen Elizabeth Gordon. Enticing book. You should devour it.

That concludes this morning's shameless plug.

Truly, I feel utterly rough this morning. The litter boxes are back in their penultimate state of nasty. My back aches from the 11,000 square feet of floor space traversed repeatedly by me at work last night. I spent yesterday at work reminding Stephen and others that we are broke, and we don't need new wine goblets (at least, not until September 6th), purple leather journals (glares especially at Q), bamboo windchimes, a virgin mary beaded curtain, oriental parasols, Om jewelry, or more stuffed animals. At least, not right now. Maybe when there is money.

I still have my eye on that huge 'chat noir' poster. Aiii. No. I ordered books from Amazon.com a few weeks ago. I should be happy with this. I want to reduce the clutter, not add to it.

But the instinct to line the nest with goodies is terrible. I only hope to be not devoured.

This is what I am doing now however, not washing dishes. Since I will be cooking lunch or what not in a couple of subtly flavored hours. Apparently, it is that time of year to look back over diaries past.

Nevermind last year, this time, and me.

Red furry monsters should eat the spring up like so many strawberries.

I ought to get this blond, shifty-eyed aristo-brat college student the hell out of my head and on to paper.

<<agé chose>>

0 comments.notation.profile.DW.Quois.Lochinvar.smut.Tambourin.DiaryLand.DeadNazi