Sunday has rolled in all cuddled up in a wooly bank of fog.
Very atmospheric if it was London in November. Seeing as how it’s northern Florida in late July, however, it really kind of stinks.
But, hey, I’m willing to roll with Mother Nature’s punches.
Ain’t no fog that can take Chloe Stowe down!…
Alright that was admittedly ridiculous.
It was also a big, fat lie. Heavy, grey skies can gather a depression in my head with alarming speed.
However, that’s not going to happen today.
I’m going to be chipper, d**n it!
Frolicking will freaking occur with regularity and glee.
I might even be able to cough up a giggle and a guffaw from time to time…
Which is most likely the reason my dog is scratching pitifully at the front door with her bags packed.
Maybe the fog will lift soon and the creative juices will start to flow again (right now they’re moving at the clip of molasses heading uphill).
Well, wish me luck in surviving this Sunday and I’ll wish you the same.