With my Daughter Hat firmly reattached to my head, I believe I have
finally settled in for the whole holiday run. There should be no more dragging
myself and my four-legged, furry muse across state lines until after Santa
comes and goes.
Whew!
The fact that we ended up on the wrong side of the state line for my
authorly instincts is neither here nor there really. My Writer Hat has been
essentially on sabbatical since August anyway so a few more weeks on the shelf
shouldn’t make much difference to the old chapeau. Maybe a layer of dust will
add a bit of charm to the whole Chloe Stowe ensemble? Nostalgia sells, right? A
rusty writer should sell marvelously… at least, to the flea market crowd.
Seeing as I’m slowly screwing my self-esteem down into a hole with this
post, I’m going to abandon this holiday cheer effort here. I’m feeling rather
disgusted with my selfishness and doubt I’m worthy of donning any hat at the
moment…
Oh well, I probably deserve a cold head.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
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