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me all bein' random
Nearly midnight and I'm not asleep. I've got Tom Waits on the brain, and a cold breeze stabbing in through the window, and a cat thrumming on the bed (dammit, Oscar, I told you to stop thrumming). It's been a good day, mostly, and I'm trying to drag it out just a little bit longer -- at least until it's technically tomorrow -- in the hopes that it'll bleed over until the weekend. It's worth the effort, I think.
I'd write a little more here tonight, but I've written a small novel of other words all evening long, and so I'm gonna call it quits, recharge a little.
And what's up with this stupid new virus? I've gotten three or four hundred messages laced with it in the last three days.
Oh, and since she's not breaking the news herself, I'm gonna do it for her: the kid sister's writing a novel. It's all fun and games until she beats me to the actual selling of one. Time to get crackin.
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