Oh dear it’s Monday again.
Will someone please tell these flowers on my desk to stop smelling weird? I know they’re cute and all, but seriously, cut it out.
Did anyone else notice that weird guy standing in the window last night? Just me? Oh, it was me. That makes sense.
Did I forget how to breathe?
I need to call a doctor?
Oops I should have deleted that question mark.
Now why did I type that instead of just going back and deleting the question mark.
And the last sentence should have had a question mark.
Writing is a muscle, isn’t it, which makes it like the heart. So is it possible to have a writing attack? Pain shoots down my left arm, my ears are clogged, morning tooth film is extra gummy, I feel a little tired. This must be a writing attack.
In that case, the case of my imminent death or whatever happens after a writing attack, there are some very important things I would like to say:
I think it would be great to raise kids on a farm. It teaches them the lessons of hard work and exposes them to plenty of contagions in order to build up strong immune systems.
Sea foam green isn’t all that great, and if you’ve ever looked at sea foam, you know you wouldn’t want to be wearing a shirt made out of anything with even the slightest connection to it.
I stole the coffee mug that I now use daily, and I’ve never felt sorry about it.
Shockingly, getting hot girls in bikinis to pose with your product is not cutting-edge marketing.
If you wear a hat daily, your personality will mold to the hat. This is why fedoras are a bad idea.