Saturday, September 18, 2004

I am not home.

Not on a Saturday night, no. I'm out at a fancy dress ball, or at a fabulous movie premiere, or maybe even at a all-night laundromat writing great works of poetry and eating Skittles. I am most definitely NOT at home, staring at a monitor, recovering from a case of heat exhaustion while my darling husband reclines next to me on the couch and my darling children are asleep in their beds.

Nope, not me.


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