Well, work's done for the night. So-so night on sales--started off well, then I crapped out at the end, damnit. Ah well, that's how it goes. I was ringing up members of a car club--the wives are often difficult to deal with, with car club guys--jealous over a car, how sad is that? Glad I'm not married, ha-ha.
(Reeeowerrr---hisss! Spat!) Man, those car club widows are nasty!
Well, going to bed early--not bothering with the Accord Hospice story tonight, I'll write something tomorrow morning or afternoon, when I get 'round to it. Only a handful of die-hard friends are even reading it--about 4 to 6 people a day, on average, so I don't think the world will end if I post a late entry for Story #42/Day 42 on Saturday, as long as it's in by midnight GMT. Accord doesn't even know the Drabble-a-thon exists, so no worries there, whether it's on time or late, tomorrow--my friends know about my ill health, so I'm sure they'll understand if it's late.
Fat Charlie is weighing down my right shoulder, purr-snorting in my ear (he half-purrs through his nose, wee odd cat that he is). I swear, if even some movie company, needed a live cat to act as a stationary object--Charlie would fit the bill nicely--he hates to move...unless he sees a bird, or it's dinner time, that is.
So, going to bed early--without the drabble story tonight, there's little reason to stay up past 11. I'll watch a Dr Who eppy (Utopia), and hit the sack early.
"Damn! When are they going to put a heated litterbox for me out here?"
freeasthewind
I know I left that mouse here somewhere