I ate a gold medal pancake.
Also, I finally found a typewriter. To be precise, my brother and his family of typewriter hunters found it and mailed it to me. Hurray for them! Some of you might remember my
plight to find one. Now I have and I'm sad because I have to give it away tonight and we've already bonded. I knew it would be in my life only for a short time- I should never have named it
(Mr Plunkers). They say that once you name something, you've bonded. STUPID STUPID ME. Now I need to find a typewriter for ME... and finding this one took me 5 months. It's really what is holding me back from actually writing a novel instead of blogging all the time. I didn't realize it before. I thought it was my lack of owning a cabin on a secluded lake, with an airy little room upstairs that has a desk right under the window with a gauzy curtain blowing in the breeze as I write feverishly and it also has a vase with a couple of wilting daisies on the desk- because I don't have time in my writing fever to replace their water. Maybe there is also a kitschy lamp- perhaps one that looks like a fishnetted showgirl leg. Just one leg. Anyhow, that's how inspired I would be in that room- the daisies would wilt. Now I realize that my imaginary desk will also need a typewriter. A typewriter named
Mr Plunkers II.
I ate a gold medal pancake.
Also, I finally found a typewriter. To be precise, my brother and his family of typewriter hunters found it and mailed it to me. Hurray for them! Some of you might remember my plight to find one. Now I have and I'm sad because I have to give it away tonight and we've already bonded. I knew it would be in my life only for a short time- I should never have named it (Mr Plunkers). They say that once you name something, you've bonded. STUPID STUPID ME. Now I need to find a typewriter for ME... and finding this one took me 5 months. It's really what is holding me back from actually writing a novel instead of blogging all the time. I didn't realize it before. I thought it was my lack of owning a cabin on a secluded lake, with an airy little room upstairs that has a desk right under the window with a gauzy curtain blowing in the breeze as I write feverishly and it also has a vase with a couple of wilting daisies on the desk- because I don't have time in my writing fever to replace their water. Maybe there is also a kitschy lamp- perhaps one that looks like a fishnetted showgirl leg. Just one leg. Anyhow, that's how inspired I would be in that room- the daisies would wilt. Now I realize that my imaginary desk will also need a typewriter. A typewriter named Mr Plunkers II.
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