Wednesday, May 12, 2004

I get to ask myself three questions ... and I get to answer them! 

That way no-one knows whether I'm being honest or lying.

(But then, even if I play it the conventional way, i.e, you ask me the questions and I answer them, no-one would still know whether I'm being honest. Oh my, stop that thought - my head hurts.)

Q. Where do you live?
A. In a nineteenth century horse-drawn caravan, currently stopped by a river in a field of golden daffodils.

Q. What are you having for lunch today?
A. I'm going to ask the freckled farmer's daughter with the golden curls over at the farm gate across the way if there are any fresh eggs and cheese today, and I'm going to fetch a loaf from the baker along with some oats for horsy.

Q. What's on tonight?
A. That question is so twentieth century. Nothing's 'on tonight' in the nineteenth century. Dinner outside if it stays warm, then inside to retire with a book and a candle, then to sleep, perchance to dream.

I wish.

is it time for a nap yet? i think so

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