"We used to walk along the river/and dream our way out of this town."

So I'm sitting here in the library, catching up on some homework, and Brayden is out cold on the couch beside me.  Poor boy ... all of the stress is finally getting to him.  He's got tons to do, but I think I'll let him sleep.  Later, I may take him to Arby's or something.  I have to make him eat.

He's so proud of himself, though.  All of these shirts that he's had for so long that have apparently been too small are suddenly fitting him perfectly!  He's trying so hard to work out and trim up, and we want to have a healthy household, so we're both watching our sugar intake and our "laziness meters."

But I would kill for a triple-decker devil's food cake right now.

In other news, I have no CLUE what to write my second story about.  My first one kinda got torn apart, and I'm not exactly a fast writer.  Brayden's been researching everything under the sun for his, and it has great potential.

Maybe I should write the soap opera that our life has turned into.  I'm sure there would be a market for it somewhere ... I mean, we just had to essentially put a restraining order on our ex-best friend.  How much more dramatic can you get?

Desperately seeking inspiration,

Katydid