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I cleared out my email, where is my medal?
I also used up the last of vegetables in the drawer to make a vegetable marinara sauce. I poked around in the freezer and pulled out some meatballs and tossed those into the sauce, so while it isn't vegetarian anymore, it helped to create space and I can feel vaguely noble. I was poking around in the freezer so I could get out the cookie dough. More cookies are had.
I bought sunglasses and I made the sun go away. I apologize to everyone in England. I owe you. But the glasses are great and my eyeballs don't hurt. Well they hurt sometimes but I think that might be age. In other firm decisions that may likely kill Summer, I ordered a new ice cream maker. I have that urge to make many things. Maybe I am in an upswing. Or I desire an upswing. I feel a sense of an upswing. Yes. That might be accurate. I'm trying to set the depression outside the door like an empty bottle of milk. "done with this thank you." I should add a note, "no more thank you." (though I suspect -if you will allow me to get my analogies and metaphors to a convoluted state, that it is more like some newsletter or email you subscribed to, and you keep trying to unsubscribe and it just won't let you. "are you sure you don't want to be depressed?" "YES I AM SURE.")
Today I am doing painting, and cutting, and sticking, and stamping with Miss Biscuit. We shall create. I am not saying one should go out and have a child just for the express purpose of getting you out of bed in the morning when you don't feel like it, but I do have to hand it to Miss Biscuit. Her bossy nature certainly keeps me from sitting there for too long.
Senor Onion announced that he is going to save up his money to buy a computer. He does have access to one of Mr. Jenner's many laptops. I suspect he wants to have one that is truly all his own. I said that it might take a few years to save up for it. He looked at me and said in a rather shrewd tone, "Oh I don't think so." Is there something he isn't telling me? Is he an arms dealer on the side? Is there some kind of Moshi Monsters racket he is running on the playground?
Looking out at the fields from my kitchen window, I could see the line where the rain ended. But I could also watch as the wind was moving that line of rain around. It was sort of like a chorus line of dancers.
I also used up the last of vegetables in the drawer to make a vegetable marinara sauce. I poked around in the freezer and pulled out some meatballs and tossed those into the sauce, so while it isn't vegetarian anymore, it helped to create space and I can feel vaguely noble. I was poking around in the freezer so I could get out the cookie dough. More cookies are had.
I bought sunglasses and I made the sun go away. I apologize to everyone in England. I owe you. But the glasses are great and my eyeballs don't hurt. Well they hurt sometimes but I think that might be age. In other firm decisions that may likely kill Summer, I ordered a new ice cream maker. I have that urge to make many things. Maybe I am in an upswing. Or I desire an upswing. I feel a sense of an upswing. Yes. That might be accurate. I'm trying to set the depression outside the door like an empty bottle of milk. "done with this thank you." I should add a note, "no more thank you." (though I suspect -if you will allow me to get my analogies and metaphors to a convoluted state, that it is more like some newsletter or email you subscribed to, and you keep trying to unsubscribe and it just won't let you. "are you sure you don't want to be depressed?" "YES I AM SURE.")
Today I am doing painting, and cutting, and sticking, and stamping with Miss Biscuit. We shall create. I am not saying one should go out and have a child just for the express purpose of getting you out of bed in the morning when you don't feel like it, but I do have to hand it to Miss Biscuit. Her bossy nature certainly keeps me from sitting there for too long.
Senor Onion announced that he is going to save up his money to buy a computer. He does have access to one of Mr. Jenner's many laptops. I suspect he wants to have one that is truly all his own. I said that it might take a few years to save up for it. He looked at me and said in a rather shrewd tone, "Oh I don't think so." Is there something he isn't telling me? Is he an arms dealer on the side? Is there some kind of Moshi Monsters racket he is running on the playground?
Looking out at the fields from my kitchen window, I could see the line where the rain ended. But I could also watch as the wind was moving that line of rain around. It was sort of like a chorus line of dancers.
