I am tired like oh my god. I have no brain but I must poem. But I cannot poem! But I must. I need a brain-throttle.
I've done the thing where I put everything off and now it all has to be done but I'm just snailing up and not doing it because after all, I do have a few days of wiggle room, right?
Self, you suck.
In conclusion, I slink back to Word, my nemesis, my curse, my hated master.
Happy birthday sheryl67!