It's getting late at the Park. I think I am the only one around here with open eyes. I have to sit at an angle, when I would prefer to have my feet propped on the couch, since there is a pile of snoring, twitching felines taking up my personal space. I'd love to go to bed, but not only do I need to write, but I also just remembered that I abandoned a crazy ex-librarian move mid-shift. I was moving around my bookshelves, and I unloaded the shelf unit I had double-stacked with trashy novels (I love them, don't judge me) all over my bed, so I could group them by author and series. I'm talking three shelves, two rows deep on each, and extras wedged in to every open space and stacked on top, spread out in a thin layer over my whole bed. I think this is going to be one of those nights I will be glad that we replaced the mattress on the guest bed when we moved in to this house.
I had a lot of fun working on my secret project today, but that means I didn't spend a lot of time thinking of anything to write about. I did cave in to the group demands of a walk in the park this afternoon, so at least I have some new pictures to share. It's one of those nights with more pictures than words. I've decided not to beat myself up about that.
I hope I remember who I am when I wake up in the wrong room in the middle of the night. It's the price I have to pay for my secrets.
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