I'm reading tonight in Duvall with the writing group I've been hanging with for the last two months, especially the talented and funny Betsy . And I spent the entire morning with my effing printer, all because I changed the cartridge. In my pajamas. The dog nudging my elbow because he was bored and needed a walk. And I tried everything, including calling HP-did you know they charge you for phone calls?
Eventually I got dressed and walked away. Left the house. Went to the office so I could print there. Debated whether to go to Office Max to buy another printer. Nah.
Came home and lo and behold (as my mother would say), the printer is working. While I was gone the house elves fixed it or else I don't know what. Surely the katz had nothing to do with it.
On the way home, a mattress was propped up beside a defunct restaurant. The spray-painted message was :
IT'S NOT ME
I'm reading a personal PROSE piece and a few poems tonight. There will be wine. I just can't make suicide funny but I'll plow through anyway. The busses have ads for the Overnight Suicide Walk to to raise money for 'prevention'. Walk to prevent suicide. Right. As if that works.