Work, work, work, work, work, yuk, work. Yuk. Work.
Blog?
Sleep?
Work. Work, work, work. Die.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Inky and tentacled
About Me
Now reading
Archives
-
▼
2005
(310)
-
▼
June
(25)
- Tucking Helena in the other night, I offer her a t...
- No title
- A public, fictional life
- Not Constantinople
- This was only a test
- This week
- Summer reading
- Aliens and angels
- Green sheep
- Over the past few days, and in the future
- She flits
- Saramago speaks, part 3 of 3
- Saramago speaks, part 2 of 3
- Saramago speaks, part 1 of 3
- Notes.
- Confronting oneself
- Where's the harm?
- Misbehavin' Elmo
- A meme, by which I procrastinate
- Bookstore observations
- The notebook
- Behind the fairy tales
- Leaps and bounds
- Toothless
- Mara and Dann again
-
▼
June
(25)
Blogs on Books
- Asylum
- Biblibio
- Biblioklept
- Bookpuddle
- Books, Inq
- Caravana de recuerdos
- Dolce Bellezza
- Edward Champion's Reluctant Habits
- His Futile Preoccupations
- Indextrious Reader, The
- Lark Writes
- Literary Saloon, The
- Maud Newton
- Mental Multivitamin
- MobyLives
- Mookse and the Gripes, The
- Nonsuch Book
- Pages Turned
- Pechorin's Journal
- Reading Matters
- Robert Pinsky Poetry Forum
- Thumb Drives and Oven Clocks
- Time's Flow Stemmed
- Tony's Book World
- Waggish
- Work in Progress, A
Also Reading
7 comments:
Hang in there.
Hmmm... I thought that was my week. I hope it's over soon, for both of us.
Oh stop it! You are not going to die this week, however, the rest of it: yes, I understand that.
She knows she won't. She just wishes she would.
You're not dead yet, are you?
Kimberly said what I was going to! Hope all is well up there...
At least you got a few yuks in there.
Post a Comment