[Friday]

I don't really have anything to say.
I am so ready for fall. I want September and October, over and over.
Work is warm, I would quit if I knew where to go next.
I'd rather not be working.
I'd rather be painting and sewing and colouring and writing poetry;
Can I get paid for that?

A mosquito bit my arm pit. the whole thing is swollen and gross.
Have I told you that I am so done with summer? Were there twice as much
camping with beer, maybe things would hold better
but they do not because there is only once as much.