As of today, Monday, at 5 pm when I left the office, I had worked 52.75 hours since Thursday morning. A second week which had no "weekend." I'm not REALLY complaining... in this day and age it's good to have a job, and most of the time I like mine just fine. But there are times when I wish I was paid by the hour.
Suffice it to say, I dragged home Saturday and Sunday, stretched out my miserable, cranky hips, legs and feet, and was not heard from again until it was time to throw myself back into it. As I have said before, I could not have done it without the help of my brother, John. He and I are a good team.
Strangely, I have been totally uninspired by paper arts during all of this association with paper in its BOOK form... but I can always wring out another seventeen syllables:
Tree falls in forest:
pulped, pressed, packaged, perfect for
my "Ode to a Tree."
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Koi mujhse bhi puch le kyun khamosh hai meri aankhein,Meri zindagi ko fir se maang raha hai ye dil satta king and Har lamha yun kal Ko talash raha hai yeh dil,Guzri yaadon ko fir se jeena chah raha hai yeh dil play bazaar
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