(NOT. ONE. WORD.)
Re, story: only one scene left to write, but it is so pivotal, so absolutely key to the rest of the schmear making any sense at all, that I find myself unable to approach it. In other news, my apartment right now is spotless.
Today I found the strangest neighborhood ever. There's a part of Winter Park where the houses all have 14 rooms and every car that speeds past is a Lexus SUV. Teenaged girls walk down the streets carrying $3000 Gucci handbags. Then two blocks over (yes, on *that* side of the railroad tracks), a completely different story. Colorful beaten down shacks have raggedy children playing with rocks in front of them. I found the cutest little hut with purple storm shutters wrapping around the corner of the house. When you prop them up to let some light in, it looks like the house has purple wings. Is that enough of a reason to go through the agony of moving? Maybe. Thing is, all the Rollins College students live in this area, it seems. The landlord practically wants a Federal background check. I don't mind that, but you know when they want that AND they rent student hovels, they're probably shady on top of it. Hmm. I may be cynical.
I have to admit, I like the hat. I find it admirable when celebrities promote recycling like that. Who knew that lawnchair webbing could ever be used again? Also, I'm sorry. I really, really like this outfit. It just works. Must be the shoes.
I notice that every picture on my desktop waiting to be filed is titled something like "ARMSguh" or "helpTONGUEI'mcoming." JC month has been good to us, hasn't it?