Have I ever mentioned that I am a night owl? Oh, I am. John, however, is not. I am reminded of this each night that I sit in bed and attempt to write. Just as something pops in my head and I begin to put the words in permanent storage via my laptop he turns off the lights and I am left chicken-pecking my way through my thoughts and swatting at, usually, one or two flying insects drawn to the only source of light in the whole house -a.k.a. my computer screen - at the same time. I tell you this, friends, so that the next time you read something from me that is grammatically flawed, incoherent even, please check the time stamp. Oh, here he comes. Got ti ron. Zee yoi all tumrrow.
P.S. Pleze frgiv me, Ms. Cox. As yoi cen tel/ I shold habe paif mor attemtopn un typomg clazz,