Chloe Refuses to Cooperate

This is one of those extremely rare evenings where I am feeling relaxed.  It’s Friday, I had my weekly manicure and the person who does my nails gave me a nice massage.  The inside of my head is as close to being a black hole of nothingness as it ever will be, which makes it difficult to think of a subject for tonight’s blog entry.

So I went to Chloe, who’s usually good at providing fodder.  Or at least a poem.  No go tonight, however.  She’s too busy asking Papa to do the “wheelbarrow” with her and Sophie.  She tried to convince me to write about funny kids at her school (without naming names, of course), but I refused on the grounds that such writing is unethical.

Sophie is currently jumping on my bed as I attempt to write this blog.  jaklkl;ajajljfdjsfdjlf.  No, this is not secret code.  This is what happens when Sophie jumps on my bed while I’m trying to type.

My eyes are slowly starting to close.  I think I’d be sleeping already if Chloe hadn’t farted next to my shoulder.  Suddenly, I’m not feeling so relaxed anymore.

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