Well, once again it is the end of a month. What does that mean? Well, nothing, except that another is on the way in the odd cycle some Roman guys imposed on us several hundred years ago.
At work today I looked at my hands and they seemed small. I mean really small. Like they should be at the end of a child's arms instead of a sort-of man's. Maybe it was just my perspective, or something, there's no way for me to know. They just seem so small. I suppose the pudginess around the fingers doesn't help. They still look small to me. After all, it's true what they say. *sigh*
The best thing about this month is the comic strip thing. So far, I'm doing good, two a week. Eight posted. That makes me happy. They're fun for me to do and, I hope, they're fun for you people out there in Internetville to look at. More or less, this really is me and the way I spend my time. Not exciting, but it looks good, right. Yup, it's fun. Maybe, one day, I'll be able to make money off of things like this. I'm not going to hold my breath, mind you. If I did, I'd pass out and probably miss posting a strip. Fun stuff.
Also, at work, I hit my elbow, really hard, right in the not-so-funny bone. I hit it so hard, that it still hurts. When I tried to lean, head on hand and elbow on desk, on it at school, I yelped. (It was a little "yelp," but a "yelp" none the less.) My arm hurts when it bends. It hurts when it stays still. It hurts up to my wrist and into my armpit. It's not nice.
Well, psyduck is staring down at me from its perch on the monitor. It's telling me that I should climb in bed, read several pages, turn off the light, and sleep the night away. Who am I to argue with it?
And with that I say good-bye to the once seventh month and all of you. 'Bye.
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