The time. It has wings.
So much for writing more regularly, in spite of the general insanity that has been life as of late (which is usually what motivates my blatherings). Today, I feel that when it comes to deciding about going to a dusty environment at the end of August, this is the place to type my neuroses.
Go? No go? Go? No go? Go? No go? Go? No go? Go? No go? Go? No go?
Every time I attend to this nameless event, I proclaim, "It's my last time! I swear it!" and then an even-year always sneaks up and whispers dirty, enticing things in my ear...
Between Hovel and 4th&Desert, I'd seem to have fulfilled my desert time commitments for the year.
But there you have it.
To go or not to go will now occupy an inordinate amount of thinking-time for the next several weeks. Dammit.
I could really use that brain power for other things.
Really.
Go? No go? Go? No go? Go? No go? Go? No go? Go? No go? Go? No go?
Every time I attend to this nameless event, I proclaim, "It's my last time! I swear it!" and then an even-year always sneaks up and whispers dirty, enticing things in my ear...
Between Hovel and 4th&Desert, I'd seem to have fulfilled my desert time commitments for the year.
But there you have it.
To go or not to go will now occupy an inordinate amount of thinking-time for the next several weeks. Dammit.
I could really use that brain power for other things.
Really.