I am ready to be smack in the middle of this photo. My mind is, anyway. The calendar says not yet. Come to think of it, my abs aren’t so sure either, I haven’t worked out in way too long. It can’t be bothering me that much, or I’d get my butt onto the yoga mat and start crunching.
Instead, I’m still working on the damned synopsis. I have a completed draft. It needs a gastric bypass, and then some serious CPR.
Little Incredibly Dumb Dog decided she’d help me out by eating my flash drive. This way there’s no evidence of those wasted hours when I hit the delete button, and I burned a few calories chasing her to get it out of her tiny, vise-like jaws.
Maybe if I put the printed synopsis between my teeth as I hold the chair pose, both flabby abs and prose will tighten up.