. . . while I'm trying to blog.

There are busy footsteps wafting up the stairway, and the sounds of someone furiously packing.

My husband is clearly taking a shortcut of some sort, since we don't move until this coming Monday, and it's cheating to start packing before Sunday. Saturday, earliest.

I also have editing to do. And housework. But I'm not sure how to access the internet while I'm physically working; is there some sort of IV drip available now?

Work, work, work. Tromp, tromp, tromp. He's doing it on purpose. He wants me to feel guilty.

The only way out, as I see it, is to take a nap. But, here. On the couch. After all, the WiFi doesn't seem to work very well from the bedroom.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 10:05 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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