Denim thigh

A closeup of a dark stained denim pant
A closeup of a dark stained denim pant
Cotton threads

I didn’t take the time to take any photos today, so sitting in my chair, my options are limited to my attire and my furniture. And the awful wallpaper. Aren’t you pleased my jeans weren’t stained for this lovely photo? I am.



Yesterday I managed to blog, take a photo, and help finish packing a 4 bedroom, 2,000+ sq ft home, and still squeezed in a few not sucky words. I’m quite pleased with myself.

I am also quite exhausted. I can’t imagine how the folks I helped – one of whom was awake for two days packing – are feeling now. Hopefully happy, but likely also exhausted.

I wrote 177 blog words, and 102 fiction words. The fiction words are as follows because for exhausted words, I liked them and want to share.

She didn’t go to bars as a general rule, but tonight was going to be an exception.

“Appletini, please,” she ordered, sliding awkwardly onto a stool. She didn’t care that the bartender was giving her the sideye at having to prepare something so sickeningly sweet. She didn’t care that she didn’t know anyone around her.

She cared that the drink set before her was suitably neon green in color, appropriately sour on her tongue, and contained some kind of fruit garnish.

Even if it was just a cherry from a jar of sugar water.

Hee! I amuse myself. (Yes, I’m counting those words for today’s blog post. Why do you ask? ¬_¬ )