This is a perfect day to stay home from work, sit by a window and listen to the rain slashing the windows, and the wind whistling as it torments the branches in the trees. These are the things that tease the creative side of my brain. I can sit and type words that grow into an intriguing tale. But, alas, I must go to work, sit in my office far from any outside walls and windows. Perhaps this is the day I will plot the demise of...my boss. Especially after I have to walk outside in this mess and have my hair blown so hard and pelted with rain that it becomes the thing nightmares are made of...but wait! Isn't that another plot?
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