I do my best, most clear thinking in the shower. Lathering up is when I remember all those minute little tasks I need to get done that I have failed to do. Unfortunately, as soon as my feet step through the open glass door onto the rug, everything is forgotten once again.
The other day I had the most brilliant idea, and by brilliant I mean far-fetched, difficult and highly likely to shave years off my life. I thought, "Hey, I think I might want to write a book."
In the shower, this sounded like such a good idea. I was thinking about my proposal and what I would send in for my first chapter. I was wondering how to find a local agent and publisher.
Through the magic glass door I stepped, a towel rubbing my skin dry and my mind free of enthusiasm for such a project. It just wouldn't work.
Would it?
The other day I had the most brilliant idea, and by brilliant I mean far-fetched, difficult and highly likely to shave years off my life. I thought, "Hey, I think I might want to write a book."
In the shower, this sounded like such a good idea. I was thinking about my proposal and what I would send in for my first chapter. I was wondering how to find a local agent and publisher.
Through the magic glass door I stepped, a towel rubbing my skin dry and my mind free of enthusiasm for such a project. It just wouldn't work.
Would it?
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