MistWeaver: Aye yi yi. Can you believe there are only a few short days until school starts?
Voice in the Mist: Considering I've been to school... Yes.
Weaver: I've been going to school for many years now, and have decided somewhere along the line that back-to-school should be a fun time.
Voice: That makes sense. If you dread it all the time, all that you'll accomplish is making a necessary event miserable for yourself.
Weaver: Well... yeah. There's that. There's also the fact that back-to-school means school supplies, which means pens and pencils and notebooks and stationary!!!
Voice: I don't think I've ever heard anyone get so excited over school supplies.
Weaver: Is it really my fault that I love pens? And staples and post-its and notebooks and binders and other such things too, of course.
Voice: I suppose you blame it on the fact that you're a writer, don't you?
Weaver: I suppose you stole my line.
Voice: I was sick of you saying it.
Weaver: Actually, I blame it on Pamela. She's to blame for everything. A kind of universal scapegoat. But the fact that I"m a writer probably had something to do with, too. Ever since I can remember, Staples has been my favorite store. I just love the aisles of business supplies. I especially love black pens and purple pens, with as fine a tip as is possible to get. Perfect for my small writing.
Voice: Wow. You're actually scaring me slightly, and I'm mist. I don't scare easily.
Weaver: Wow. That's amazing. But for your sake I'll move on to different things. Like where I am now.
Voice: On a beach somewhere hiding from the beginning of school?
Weaver: I wish.
Voice: On your computer.
Weaver: Oh, my, god. However did you guess that?
Voice: And the fact that you're typing onto the internet had abosolutely nothing to do with my conclusion.
Weaver: You're stealing my lines again.
Voice: So sorry. So, where are you typing on your computer. That's the question.
Weaver: Well, I set up another hammock (that makes 4 of them) in a spot in the shade and have been finalizing edits on Broken Wings. I'm on page 83 of 161 and determined to finish before school starts.
Voice: So why aren't you doing that now?
Weaver: I've been working on it for quite a while now, and I'm taking a break to write other things, like my blog. Unfortunately, my nails are now so long that it's getting harder and harder to type quickly. I'm probably going to go file them down afterwards, just for simplicity's sake.
Voice: Why didn't you do that before?
Weaver: Probably because I adore having long nails, and mine are gorgeous. I haven't had my file, though and they haven't been taken as good care of as I might have done if I did. They're going to break soon, if I don't do something. Also, there's the dog to think of.
Voice: The dog? What has that got to do with anything?
Weaver: Yes, the dog. Whiskey, my absolutely gorgeous (and tiny) mini-daschund. She's lying on top of me, curled into my breasts and fast asleep. Whoops. So much for fast asleep: she just kinda woke up from some noise and is giving her cute little sleepy barks at something, but unwilling to actually move.
Voice: A small dog must have an annoying yip.
Weaver: Actually, she's got a bark deeper than a lot of big dogs. And she's using it on that annoying Murdoch from across the street. A slightly bigger foofy dog who likes to pee on Leroy's head. And Leroy, mature terrier that he is, turns around and pees on Murdoch's head right back.
Voice: I believe I speak for many voices all over the palce when I say 'ew'.
Weaver: Oh, well. Nothing to be done about it. Murdoch just wandered off again.
Voice: Is that the same dog that pees on your newspapers?
Weaver: One and the same. And on that lovely note, I'll be back later. I must... take care... of a little problem.
Voice: Just remember that killing dogs is bad karma.
Voice: MistWeaver?
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