punctuation

9.14 pm on a Thursday night.

And the blogging brontosaurus stirs from its slumber and hrrrumph blurrs in my ear.

I sit quietly with my HP mini, drawing comfort from the warmth of the comfortably small keyboard and uncomfortably small screen. Crumbs of biscuits lie scattered around my feet. There's washing to be run. A dinner to be reheated and eaten. Calls to return. Emails to send. Faxes to follow back on. A hot bath. A bed that's calling out to be slept in. A goodnight to be whispered. Things like that.

But I'd rather blog. When the thought hasn't crossed my mind in 6 months. Damn, I must have something to say. I sure hope I find out what.