It rained Saturday afternoon and most of the day yesterday, so I didn't walk. I Wii-ed instead, which is not as good but at least it's better than sitting on my duff all day. I did a lot of that too, though, because I worked on a lesson for next Thursday's writing group meeting and I also did a load a wash wherein I shrunk/felted Durwood's favorite hat. D'oh. Guess what I'm crocheting? Right! Another hat.
I was pleased last night to see that the prompt writing for the night would fill up a notebook. It's always satisfying to fill one up, to have to grub around and find a fresh, clean one to begin in the next day. So, without further ado, here's the notebook-filling writing just for you...
April 24 & 25--Marovo Island, Solomons. How many shades of blue are there? How many greens? Ann was sure she'd go mad before she got the answers. All her life she had dreamed of escaping the rat race to live on a tropical island. Now she did, had been there less then two months and she was going crazy. She couldn't get away. Well, not very far anyway. Shopping for anything was a royal pain in the keester. No matter where you went, all that was on the shelves of that particular store was part of what had been on the last freighter delivery, and every store had essentially the same items. Ann was certain that whoever was in charge of stocking the supply freighter that called at Marovo was a one-eyed, color-blind misanthrope whose taste buds had been cauterized by decades of smoking non-filtered cigarettes. Last night she had dreamed of being at Walmart, not even a super Walmart, and it was like being in heaven. There were ten or twelve different flavors of jam, more than one size jeans on the shelf, large packages of snow white socks and underpants, six pairs to a package, and the packages were sealed. It was like heaven, even with the exposed rafters where trapped birds nested. That was nothing compared to the gigantic hissing cockroach that had been in the folds of the dish cloth she had looked at in The Eastern Store last week. The thought of it still made her fingers curl protectively. She needed to get off that rock, and fast. If one more coconut tried to bean her falling out of its palm tree, she swore she'd clear-cut the place and be done with it.
Our Ann is not very patient, is she? This is what happens sometimes when your dreams actually come true. Beware.