It's the last day of September. I'm sure you've realized this. Do you know that means there are only 86 shopping days left until Christmas?
Nameless Puppy likes to sleep under my desk. Just a while ago, he was resting his head on my foot.
Am looking at Australian Christmas ornaments, on a site an Aussie friend of mine sent me. Adorable tree ornaments (with kangaroos!) and other stuff.
Working on an historical at the moment. I love the historical romance genre.
Cat is jealous of li'l puppy. Silly kitty. Oh, and li'l woofie like canned kitty food. Great.
I'm hungry for some breakfast. Am contemplating Cream of Wheat or oatmeal. Eeny meany miney moe.
I have a Mt. Everest sized pile of laundry to fold, sort and distribute to the proper owners. I can wait.
The puppy had his first indoor accident this morning, in the kitchen. I was amazed that a little animal like that could hold so much water.
I'm currently sitting here in my winter writing pajamas. My hair is sticking out every which way, I have morning breath, yesterday's make up is smeared all over my face and I have a headache. Oh, and instead of slippers, I'm wearing flipflops. Aren't you glad I shared?
Ah, the glamorous life of a romance novelist, eh? It's never ending. Truly.
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