*pauses, reconsiders wording choices
and muses…*
Perhaps “staring” is the wrong term?
Hmm…
*flips through the thesaurus
every writer’s got in their head*
*smirks when success is found on
page 41*
I think “gawking accusingly” would work.
Yep, spot on.
Ok, so I’ve got a garden gnome gawking accusingly at me when I first
open my eyes to this Monday. Bad enough, right?
Wrong.
I’m an overachiever. So, my
garden gnome is not a cute little guy wearing a funny hat and a warm if
mythical smile.
Nope.
My gawking gnome is garish.
And creepy.
And sweaty.
*shivers at the memory of the
beast*
Well, perhaps “memory” is the wrong word?
It is, after all, staring at me right now. Having followed me down from
my bedroom, having ignored the snapping and spitting 15 pound ruffian I call my
dog, the gnome has settled itself smack-dab in the center of my mantle.
At least the darn thing hasn’t demanded its crumpets yet…
Oh, yeah. You’ve got it.
The freaking little gnome is Frank.
Apparently my “specter of imminent failure” has tired of its lardy
existence on my couch. Cheap resin and shock value is the name of the game now.
I’m trying to take this as a positive sign.
“Trying” definitely being the correct word here.
At least his loud-mouthed parrot Lola is nowhere to be found… yet.
Bottom line: failure is a many splendored cretin whom I loathe.
Have a great, gnome-free day!
Until tomorrow…
Chloe, her dog and her garish, resin-ass failure
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