Saturday, November 12, 2005

It must be Saturday.

It's after 11 am, I've been typing for almost three hours and my arms feel like they were fashioned from wet pasta.


Most of the week I wait impatiently for the weekend when I can sit down at my computer and type until I'm exhausted such as I am now.

My only real problem lies in the fact that I have tons more to type from my notes and what I've typed so far, although not garbage, is in need of tons of revising. I think I hopped a few heads over the past couple of hours as much as I hate to admit it.

I do believe I need a long hot shower, a cup of tea and a massage at the hands of a dangerously sexy man willing to paint my toes.


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