Back to the X

It's getting a little lonely in the 30 Days. I don't know if life fell like a ton of bricks, or people got perfectionist. Maybe they're typing furiously away at their joint secrecy project. I hope so; it would mean that everyone was having fun. I'm going to keep plodding along. If I go back and do Day 25, (or whatever it was that I missed,) I'll have three days left.

I'm also starting to sort out the heaps of stuff in the house. After I got out of the old house I fell into a dormant state. I played lots of solitaire. Read tons of manga. Joined the cat in watching Mouse TV. It's nice to wake up and put books on shelves. My mat cutter is tucked in, and the corner samples in a row. I'll cross my fingers for successful sorting this week.

~

Ann's fingers tapped about the bottom of the clutch. The gum huddled in the corner but the keys tried to nip. She found something long and thinnish hiding next to her license. A jolt of surprise had her peering into the depths.

It was a crayon. It was a very large pink crayon, of the sort to make all Harolds die of envy. She huffed in exasperation. A year or so ago they all thought it was cute to graffiti their texts with them, and she hadn't used this clutch since her last birthday. Ann thought a bit. Wax just wasn't going to cut it. The last birthday had been even worse than this one, and she has circumspectly drawn hearts all over the linen napkin. The waiter hadn't said anything; but he'd already helped three kick me purse dogs and looked a little frazzled.

The crayon fit nicely in the vase with all the fake carnations. The color wasn't a bad match either. A few leaves decided it was autumn, and Ann stuffed them in the tiny drawer of the accent table. The jackpot noises rang between her ears when the drawer opened. There was a pocket copy of the Zen Koran, a notepad, and a ballpoint pen.