I was sick Thursday and Friday and I came home early both those days because I could. I decided to go dancing Friday night anyway and I believe it was the right decision.
However: I did not go to Lighthouse Field: I did not go to the forest: I did not finish pruning the apple tree quick quick before three weeks of rain comes down: I did not yet clean the kitchen or do the laundry.
I made a simmified and futurificated rendition of my own bedroom for the "attic" contest at Black Pearl Sims, and I wrote a paltry chapter in the silly-sweet novella for fictionpress (nobody seems to go into automatic "nobody should write except for pay" diatribes anymore, but let me tell you, if you were thinking of it, that what I write for fictionpress has no paying market anywhere but it does have a bit of a following. Nobody charges anybody for anything: it's just an old-fashioned APA, facilitated by some webmaster somewhere who makes a living off the ads -- which tonight as I check are normal ads for tv shows and consumer reports as far as I can tell, rather than predatory scalp-the-author outfits). I did take Truffle to both Frederick Street and to Meder Street, where she played with dogs, and I did go to the grocery store and also get hot and sour soup for Emma, who has a very sore throat. She showed me the work she's been doing with fabric and she's done really wonderful things. She will be selling the series of bags and purses with leather appliqued fossils. They're really nicely conceived and executed.
And Frank is now referring to the young woman as his girlfriend who last month he was not sure he was dating.
However: I did not go to Lighthouse Field: I did not go to the forest: I did not finish pruning the apple tree quick quick before three weeks of rain comes down: I did not yet clean the kitchen or do the laundry.
I made a simmified and futurificated rendition of my own bedroom for the "attic" contest at Black Pearl Sims, and I wrote a paltry chapter in the silly-sweet novella for fictionpress (nobody seems to go into automatic "nobody should write except for pay" diatribes anymore, but let me tell you, if you were thinking of it, that what I write for fictionpress has no paying market anywhere but it does have a bit of a following. Nobody charges anybody for anything: it's just an old-fashioned APA, facilitated by some webmaster somewhere who makes a living off the ads -- which tonight as I check are normal ads for tv shows and consumer reports as far as I can tell, rather than predatory scalp-the-author outfits). I did take Truffle to both Frederick Street and to Meder Street, where she played with dogs, and I did go to the grocery store and also get hot and sour soup for Emma, who has a very sore throat. She showed me the work she's been doing with fabric and she's done really wonderful things. She will be selling the series of bags and purses with leather appliqued fossils. They're really nicely conceived and executed.
And Frank is now referring to the young woman as his girlfriend who last month he was not sure he was dating.
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