It's dreary today, which is odd, because yesterday was the day of torrential rain. My room is dim and somber, and my mind is sluggish. Matters are not helped by my dripping nose and tension headache.

Poor Flackbunny. He's so eager to hop from the hutch and tell Mama all about his next adventure, and here I sit, logy and unmoved by his winsome eyes, floppy ears, and wiggling nose. It's not that I don't want to write; I do, but I feel so damn insipid, like I'm bobbing bonelessly in a pool of KY Jelly.

Maybe sleeping until 1:30 wasn't a hot idea.

Or maybe I'm sulking because Stephen King is releasing a new book, Duma Key, on Tuesday, and I can't afford it until February. It's not a big deal, and I'm sure my enjoyment won't be lessened by having to wait a few weeks, but damn, I could've done with some sweet soul candy.

Anyway, all sulking ever won for anyone was a set of frown lines, so I suppose I should stop feeling sorry for myself, get a cream soda, and start listening to my poor, eternally patient bun.
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