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I woke up and had this awful sting in my right forearm. I made breakfast ie coffee, oats and lots and lots of koko runch. I sat on the toilet and had poo. I felt better and started reading Mansfield Park.

This is me trying to write like ****ing Hemingway. I think he writes like an imbecile but I like him anyway. A sudden thump thump thump and my neighbor greets me a happy morning using her subwoofer. Thump thump thump and it was Sixpence None the Richer's Kiss Me then it was obnoxious thumping like your parents ****ing upstairs.

Well, well what would it be for today? Is Fanny going back to Mansfield Park? Oh sure, you've been reading this. I think you should stop doing this. You've done this enough. Try Henry James! In your dreams, buddy! A letter. Lots of letter. Now from Mary Crawford, now here's one from Edmund and then, ah!, an enthusiastic letter from Lady Bertram. Poor Fanny. Fanny vs Lizzy Bennet, Lizzy vs Fanny. Blah blah. I've done the thinking, God knows why I'm writing in this blog.

My dog is scratching the door. I think she wants to poo too. Haha! Poo too! I made me a ryhme, and a challenging compelling rhyme it is.