He liked this kind of magic. It’s precision and predictability comforted him. He felt more like his grandmother knitting a shawl or a mason erecting a cathedral. Before the first dowel was laid he announced a goal. With the placement of each successive dowel he built toward that end.
Eventually I’ll be able to convince myself that a single word on a page is writing at this rate. Damn you big screen TV and brain jelling HD reception. And stupid crappy championship football game with teams I don’t follow that sucked anyway.
At least I’m efficient enough to skip right to the part where I don’t do anything new or good in the new year rather than the speedbump making resolutions might have been.
Word count: meh