If we were having coffee and ask you how your week’s been treating you?
I’d tell you I looked in the mirror this week, and it’s actually dawned on me that I’m actually 36. My kid is nearly 3. Next month, Neil and I are married four years. Seems longer. And not long enough.
Did I mention that I spilled coffee on Frank the laptop and I’m back on Truman the Giant Desk Top? It’s actually meant more writing has happened recently. And to that I say, whatever works.
I Skyped my Mom this week. We all fit on the same screen.
I might have asked Toast Coffee House if they deliver. To Skye. Because y’know, that’s where I am. If you can, go visit them and have a Peanut Butter Mocha for me.
Did I mention that I’m thinking of joining a knitting group? Or that I don’t actually knit? Maybe I’ll try, but we have to see if my wheelchair fits in the knitting group building first. Because it might not. And that’s a thing.
If we were having coffee, I’d ask if anyone else has to do pre-mission missions with a freaking tape measure? Because that’s a thing, too.
I wonder if I’m turning into a pissed off wheelchair-user with a chip on her shoulder the size of a Peppa Pig puzzle piece.
How long have we been having coffee? Seriously? And how long have I been talking about the same things?
If I asked you what you’d like to talk about, what would you say? Because I actually want to know. Let’s talk about you. I’m here.
And in October, Neil and I are going to London for The Twin Peaks UK Festival. Because that’s a thing, too.
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