On The Morrow

Not tonight, I’m tired. I’m just not going to do it. I’m the boss of me. It doesn’t matter what you say or what you think. I don’t care. You’re not the boss, I am.

What’s that you say? You want me to or you don’t fancy one way or another if I do it or if I don’t. You couldn’t care any less but if you could you wouldn’t.

Do what, you ask? Well, write, of course. What did you think I meant? 

This is all you get whether you wanted anything or not because I’m just too tired. I worked all day and did a lot of shopping and got up late to start with — and now it’s time for lying down and sleeping or watching borrowed movies — besides which, I worked on several drafts that ended up in Nowheresville and I can barely hold my head up from all that heavy lifting.

Goodnight my friends and enemies. I’ll catch you on the morrow.


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