This is how I’m getting the hump out of Hump Day.
I’m in the fields today, and by that I mean I’m raking and redistributing a bazillion of my neighbor’s autumnal leaves that have dropped into my yard. I’m giving ye old yard a final sweep and tidy before the Great White North begins to look like its name. That could be any day now, or not.
I’m going to fill my lungs with suburbified air — or would that be suburbanated? — for I live in fair Suburbia, which wanders over all the land.
I’m going to put some roses in my cheeks. Not literally, of course. That would be painful, and I would end up with poochie cheeks. Words can be tricksy.
I’m going to suck up some Vitamin D.
And I’m going to do this with my trusted helper by my side — Gracie Allen G-Pup. She who is the purveyor of all poop bombs commingling with the fallen, leafy splendor. Life just doesn’t get any better than this.
If you are in your writerly cave or pounding the keys for NaNoWriMo, I offer you this to get you through those Hump Day blues.
That’s just the kind of gal writerly friend I am.