Normally on a Saturday I go a-roguing at Starbucks, slapping down some coin for a small cup of java and pillaging their electricity for my computer. But I'm tired of coffee. (Did I just say that?) I've had me three cups o' Joe, more'n my daily allotment, and I didn't feel like running the trade at the coffee hut. I set a course for my local library, with all the big windows and comfy chairs and lonely tables in the corner.
Out in the parking harbor, I stole some lubber's wind, moored my car and hauled my rolling red computer bag into the cavernous edifice. Here, I don't have to spill my purse for no worm-infested grog, (although it would be jolly if some no-account would set a tankard of ale on the table--just saying). Last week I wrote out an enormous check for the cutthroat tax collector and, curse me for a canting mugger, I done earned the right to steal five hours of electricity.
Aaarrrr, back to editing.
Editing. My least favourite word at the moment.
ReplyDeleteBy the sound of it you deserve your five hours of electricity.
Keep at it.
Wendy,
ReplyDeleteI can see you'd be plundering the outlet at the next table were we to live closer.