Good afternoon, readers,

Not long after lunch, I took to an activity I’m rather fond of as a way to find some source of stimulation now that the rush of new resources from a fresh food source had all but disappeared entirely from my bloodstream. Face and torso aimed squarely at the glowing, rectangular future before me, I used my feet to push off my sandals and let them fall to the floor.

It seems to me that completely bare feet would be prohibited in a medical office. Perhaps it is, but no one has had the stones to say anything to me about it yet. Therefore, I indulge as I please.

While bending my toes on the glossy and lifeless wooden floor, it occurred to me that while I may open a vein for these blog posts, few readers might care that I do. Accompanying this epiphany was the fairly delightful crack of my right big toe. The sound must have called me deeper on this thought trail because it then occurred to me that no one may be reading these at all.

So, really, what is the purpose of all this?

While it isn’t as though these posts were my idea, I do take pride in success, so, as was necessary, I ‘got into it,’ as they say. It was something different to do, at the very least, and while I can be one for routine, who doesn’t pine for some spontaneity?

Conscious adaptation is for when you want to go from one thing to another, and it doesn’t work to just stay the same anymore.

*third little piggy pops euphorically*

From here on out, I write solely for Janet. Readers or no readers, dear readers, I’ll never know.

I do not believe I will be called to adjust my pieces. If no one here can look me in the eye and ask me to put my shoes back on, then who is going to question my work at its most personal?

To no one, I presume…

*SNAP!*

See you next week,

Janet