A Case of Writer's Basket

Basket Case.

Friday has finally leapt out of the tangle of ho-hum days and yelled “Surprise! I’m here!”

As we all embrace the consensus favorite of the workdays, may I just ask of Mr. Friday: “What the hell took you so long?”

This has been a long week.  Shall I enumerate?

1.) Tornadoes. Need I say more? Yep, I do. Monstrous, long-track twisters roaring by to the squawk of the NOAA weather radio foretelling “catastrophic damage.” They actually said that. I pride myself in the fact that I did not cry. *lol*

2.) Letter to a literary agent in New York in which I rolled over and exposed my lily white, indefensible, vulnerable belly. (We’re talking figurative belly here, folks. No porn accompanied this missive.)

3.) Two deaths in my circle of family and friends. I should have really mentioned these first, but I wasn’t sure about including them at all. Shockingly, and to almost all evidence to the contrary, I am a remarkably private person. Laying my literary belly and my screwed up head to bare is apparently different, however, as I have no qualms about showing all my mangled, barely healing scars to you all.

Well, I’ve just expended all of my first dose of Prozac for the day. See, just recounting my week has left me mentally limp and squishy. I am a certifiable basket case.

Alright, I’ve got another 750 words on the schedule for today, I better get moving. As slow as my brain’s chugging along this morning, I’ll be lucky to break 200 by noon.

Don’t you just love sharing my life?

It is a ray of utter sunshine.

*chuckles*

Until tonight…

Chloe