Some days it's good that I have a day job. Today, all of you playing along out there were spared a long involved rant that wouldn't have accomplished anything except working up my Inner Existentialist (who takes up about 90% my innards, everything not classified under hopeless-romantic). She truly doesn't need any help getting started on a rant about the undue credit given to the artificially imposed structure of religion or the ghastly toll it's taking on our society . . .
And I think I'm up to about 10Kwds. Looks as though the particular type of masochist one has to be to write stories nobody's interested in buying -- that's the kind I am. But at least I'm happy. That's something.
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