Day Six
What can I tell you about day six?
I kept getting interrupted.
When I think about the jobs I used to have in corporate America they went something like this:
Clock in at eight in the morning.
Make my way to my drab, grey cubicle.
Fire up my computer.
Start working.
Take a one hour lunch.
Clock out at five.
Think of how much writing I could get done if that were my day!
I'd be banging out eight thousand words a day and releasing a novel every month.
Creative bliss!
But, alas, I would be so unhappy, and my pantyhose would squeeze the life out of me.
My story is coming along bit by bit, and I can't wait until tomorrow because my lovers will be in a candlelit cottage overlooking the ocean with a foghorn gently blowing in the distance.
I kept getting interrupted.
When I think about the jobs I used to have in corporate America they went something like this:
Clock in at eight in the morning.
Make my way to my drab, grey cubicle.
Fire up my computer.
Start working.
Take a one hour lunch.
Clock out at five.
Think of how much writing I could get done if that were my day!
I'd be banging out eight thousand words a day and releasing a novel every month.
Creative bliss!
But, alas, I would be so unhappy, and my pantyhose would squeeze the life out of me.
My story is coming along bit by bit, and I can't wait until tomorrow because my lovers will be in a candlelit cottage overlooking the ocean with a foghorn gently blowing in the distance.
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