They talk about
“starving artists.” Well, in these paranoid times, this old saying has taken on
a totally different meaning.
Like many of us
writers, I get so engrossed I don’t dare to stop, not even long
enough to fix a salad. Ah (I say looking into a woefully depleted
refrigerator), how about that rubbery thingy aptly named String Cheese…
Good thing I am not
writing on a laptop lounging on a tropical beach (don’t I wish). It took a
paring knife together with my chicken shears to get the blasted wrapper removed
from what turned out to be truly/awfully, stringy.
In the end, it was
easier to unscrew a bottle of cheap wine!
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