Christie’s Nana let us bring home a typewriter that she couldn’t sell at the yard sale. Olympiette 3 portable. Orange and creme. Retro chic. I banged out a page on it this morning after flipping the ribbon, even hit every ‘a’ twice. My left pinky has no strength. Hunt-and-peck typists are no longer a pet peeve.
Starting up the diet again. The bike rides have dropped off and the fat has stacked up. 247.5 lbs this morning and that scale, well, that fucker don’t lie. The old one lied sometimes. This one doesn’t. I hate it.
Cigarettes were easy.