I was supposed to be productive today. I mean, I had plans. They were grand plans and if they had succeeded, I’d be done with the rest of the week, practically.
Instead, I ended up lounging on the dog mat on the back porch, trying to tan the backs of my legs while I read Diana Wynne Jones (which is not hard if you keep an oversized shirt over your head and the book.)
While I have to disagree with Alice that a book without pictures is unworthy of notice, the girl got one thing right: I give myself very good advice, dang-nabbit,
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