Tube, Victoria’s Secret. Skirt, F21. Heels, BCBG Girls. Sunglasses, random Marshall’s. 

Reluctant to say, I think the beginning of e-mails are harder to construct than most novel chapters… albeit, this feels strangely normal and un-normal.  The weekend is creeping up and after a bit of frivolous dialogue concerning the lack of turtles this year, an insightful analysis between prefixes and suffixes, whether or not I should be photographed with a sword, a twenty-minute conversation with an automated system that was apparently hearing impaired, and some trifling repartee pertaining to the most absolute pair of vertiginously mummy-esque heels my closet, feet, and Cleopatra could ever hope for…  I’m once again in a near-paralyzing state of umm… contemplation of sorts. 

Enough about that, phew.

The day is just beginning, lots of work to be done.