*pauses as the world moans a
consensus “Duh!”*
Please, just keep your seats a minute more while I pile some relevance
onto that statement. I promise this will be brief.
Surprising to everyone, I actually worked on an assembly line one
summer years ago (back when the mind hadn’t learned to buck so violently at
that concept.) 5am to 4pm every work day, I put in my time and was a darn good
computer innards put-her-in-her.
The point is, no matter what was going on in the world I got my job
done every darn day.
I liked it.
It was good.
Writing, however, is way different.
My father is having outpatient surgery today on something relatively minor. But even though I am
not logically concerned about it, my subconscious is panicking and scrambling
the F-16’s.
Bottom line: It’s hard to write Revolutionary War-era romance while
your choking on jet fumes.
So, I’m writing off the meager 156 words completed yesterday as
excusable. After all, writing is not an assembly line.
Right?
Pretend with me on this one. The guilt is strong with me this morning.
But most importantly please keep my dad in your thoughts and prayers
today.
Thank you.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
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