I feel like writing, but I don't have a topic. No story to tell. Nothing. I'm just sitting here with my fingers on home row tapping on the keys waiting to be inspired. A cat walks by. That only reminds me that GusGus ran away for two days, but now he's back. That's not interesting. I just made chili. Also pretty lame. Delicious, but not interesting. Hey, look at that: four lines already. It's as if I was writing. If I were at the airport or in a Starbucks, someone would think I'm important because I have so much to type. They will think I have colleagues with which I converse via email. They would be wrong. I'm just typing to hear the cool clicky sounds the laptop keys make.
Oh, grapes! We didn't discuss the grapes. How could I be so careless? See me ponder the wonder that is the perfect bunch of grapes.
And then bask in the glory of the green grapes......................................
...............................and then the purple grapes.
These all got squooshed and became the 2009 troupe de juice - extra pulp.
And now, basket-o-fluff.
And..........footstool-o-feline.
My eyes are itchy. Gotta go, bye.
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