the front entry:
how it makes me feel:
not mad, not sad, mostly just that emotion when your face scrunches up and you breathe heavily out of your nose all at once. exasperation? perhaps i should BOL? i am neither diligent enough to keep messes like this from happening nor fastidious enough to want to fix it any time soon. i am like a hamster on a wheel. why clean it up when that is just creating another opportunity for the monsters to mess it up again?
but not really.
perhaps in 20 years when my children are seeking their own fortunes far far far away and thomas and i have retired to the battery in charleston, i will not have to worry about messes anymore. each morning i will go out to my garden and pick flowers while singing, sooong! song of the south! sweet potato pie and uh, shut my mouth!
i can't see any messes here in charleston...