I do so love

I do so love torturing my mother. She has a slight heart attack reading the language I use here sometimes. Kind of funny considering the language I use in person around her.
At least somebody out there is shocked.
need negates ability. or so it seems.
I am sitting here with nothing to do, trying to think of what I can write to use up the last 20 minutes of work. And of course my mind is a blank (shutup sara).
I tried reading other people’s logs. But I can only handle so much of that. Too many bubbly high school runts, or people as bored as me who choose to release that boredom into their writing. (Here’s a thought: Poetry is an art form. Some of us really don’t make good artists).
I’m happy with the project I’m working on now, however the client won’t be back for a week and a half. Which means I’ll just keep futzing with it until then.

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