How does the weather know when I plan to work finishing up in the garden? I bought another bale of chopped straw to use as mulch, need to rework the fence around some plants, and get the first wave of beet seeds in the ground, but not today because it's raining and all muddy out there. Not that I am against getting all muddy, but I have knitting tonight and hadn't planned on showering off layers of mud. Besides you're not supposed to be walking in your garden when it's so wet because you compress the soil so it won't breathe. Ah, it's really just an excuse to sit on my duff the rest of the afternoon. Ya caught me.
June 3--Seychelles. That little pfft of sand with its tuft of palm trees looked like no kind of refuge. The promise of shade drew me toward it but I had no illusions that such a tiny islet would have water. The best I could hope for was a pool of rainwater cupped in a leaf. I wouldn't even mind if there were polliwogs and other squirming larvae in it, I wanted water. I needed water. It took all my energy to paddle my raft into the shallows, roll off, and drag my precious craft up onto the sand. Now that I was on shore I could barely stand. I had been on the water so long that I was out of practice on solid ground.
...and that's all you get. Is there a resort on the other side of the island and she's saved? Is there tantalising evidence of people but none to be found? Too many ideas, no motivation to keep going.
Thanks for all your good comments on my story last night, Crazy Writing People. I really appreciated your hard work on it. I solemnly swear that my next submission will be shorter by at least half. Cross my heart.