The boy is running a fever, the kittens are getting more playful and there is a load of dishes that I understand are my responsibility.
So I sit here smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee and contemplate firing a vendor that works with our PTO.
This is draft two of this particular post. I don’t blame the dishes or paper airplanes for the apparent lack of style today.
I don’t blame the newly hatched robin or those awaiting to be hatched on the downspout adjacent to a window looking out from my typewriter.
a fever has no concern for the goings on of the lives it affects.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 
say something