I had a dream the night before last that Margaret Atwood was zonked on my Salvation Army store couch and she DID NOT want to watch T.V.  She was lying face down and mostly talking to the floor but her words still had some of that firecrackery spit to them that I left the T.V. off.  I wasn’t too happy about it, though.

Last night, a dream of not succeeding at the 3-Day contest, per se, but managing well.  I suppose that’s all a writer can ask for, isn’t it?

(Does editing your blog site ever become less addicting?  Total minutes spent writing blog: 4 , total minutes spent editing blogsite: 129 .  Being just another voice in a multitudinous roar?  Priceless.)