I was supposed to go to bed, but I decided to get it over with and write KP a latter.
I've spent the last hour listening to Mika and writing the latter. I enjoyed neither.
First of all, it's handwriting a letter. Besides the stress on my hand, writing enough to fill the printer paper (because I suddenly realized I didn't have any lined notebook paper) requires accessing the depths of the region of the brain associated with memory and mood. All that emotional chow-chow gushing forth onto the paper- very taxing on my absence of a soul.
Relax, take it easy. I wish I could, Mika.
Ugh, Janey, you better not dress up as Toad. Next time I see you, I'm going to take your breath away, i.e. asphyxiation through my hands.
A whole lotta woman needs a whole lot more.
Ballroom dance, beginner's level: check. Job: check again later.
Collaborating with my aunt about potential plans next year.
1 comment:
curare = native american arrow poison that paralyzes deer?
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