Last night I had an adventurous dream in which we saved many people from terrorists. It was a lot of work, and only a very few people got killed. Then I got up sleepy and dopey, had some coffee, and somehow managed to drop everything, lose everything, run up and down the stairs too many times, and finally arrive at work grumpy. Life: Pretty good, but I could really use those lottery winnings.
My friend farawayhelen has journeyed to Merry Old England and asked about publishing a blog. I said, "How hard can it be?" And that, my dear friends, is that.
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2 comments:
I took the stars instead of the escalator in a London tube. I do believe that's my excercise for the week. Sharing this silliness because I'd like to be the first to post a comment in Becky's Blog. (Sounds dirty when I type it that way.)
me
You always ask "how hard can it be?" just before we wind up in some harder than hell project that, because of our ignorance, seemed quite simple to begin with...you moving to the states because you found out "how hard it can be", buying a house, remodeling the house, and so many others that they are too numerous to mention. Thanks for jumping in not with both feet, but head-freaking-first! You are the center around which my universe orbits. Your romantic partner, L’il Linn
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