A regretful morning

I woke up in the morning to write. But after flipping through the new Yorker Book of Cartoons for a while, I again went to sleep and now it's to late. Grrrrr. Need to get ready for work. Taking out Emma.

It is a truth universally acknowledged...

... that I am fated to die a maid. It is a cold evening and the view outside the window is all dark and I look forward to a cold bed with no possibility of an intercourse.

After few hours
Erik dropped me home in his big car. He took my Julia Child. I will now write a little and then settle down with my The Complete Cartoons of The New Yorker. And yes, I'm alone but I'm not feeling lonely.