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My name is Liz. I need direction. I overuse commas. My house is a mess, my hair needs a trim and I have no marketable skills: It’s fun here, you’ll see!

Got a question, comment, proposal of marriage? Great! Email me at liz@theproductivecough.com

Contact Me, Folks!

Got a question, comment, proposal of marriage? Great! Email me at liz@theproductivecough.com

Show Your Love

May 12th, 2009

Can’t Talk Now…

I was planning, of course, on writing a delightful blog for all the world to enjoy. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to do that after all because of this:

He’s right above my head and he keeps descending little by little. It’s like an arachnid time bomb. If he gets any closer I’m going to have to start rearranging furniture. So, I can’t be at my computer until he’s gone.

Why can’t I just hit him with a Chuck Taylor? Because he’s dangling from the ceiling by silk. He can skitter up and down it at will, or worse, propel himself onto my hand, causing a chain reaction of freak outs. Plus, if I try to hit him, and he and my Chuck Taylor don’t collide just right, he will fall right onto my head, and probably into my mouth or something.

He’s got the upper hand. It’s a waiting game now…

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