From a writing exercise we were bidden to do today (my personal assignment: writing a diary entry):
Today, half of the class didn’t show and there was a lot of shouting about art. It made me feel sad and incredibly tired. Such passion is exhausting, even when you don’t partake.
Jean and Frank will come today but I don’t know when they’ll arrive. I couldn’t sleep after work and cleaned the kitchen, wiped down the bar, organized the living room but left my bedroom in shambles. I’ll pick up some flowers from the deli on the way home. It’s the least I can do.
Heifer is long, lithe and stripey and splays her claws into my ragged comforter.
I would like to cook for –
“Hey!” exclaimed Patrick, looking over my shoulder. “Stop writing a book! I have to correct that!”
So I stopped.