I want to write a story. A good story. Instead I’m writing this and putting the writing of the good story off until this is done. Whatever this is.
It’s my coffee mugs fault. I almost didn’t use it.
I opened the cupboard, looked at my favorite coffee mug, and the battle began. Use it, or save it for tomorrow? The dishwasher is empty. No chance it’ll be full enough to start. Then again I could wash it by hand. I wash dishes all the time.
I stood looking at the mug. I didn’t expect to see it. I don’t know why not.
It’s blue and white. It’s a winter scene mug. There’s a male snowman and female snow lady holding snow arms with white snow flakes decorated above them.
I love this mug. Hell with it. I’m using it this morning and I’ll write about.
We should use our favorite mug.
Sent from my iPhone
I’m even going to leave that. I’m literally writing this with my thumbs, leaning on the counter, drinking my coffee.