Or writing, that is.
My children are always well supplied with scratch paper in the form of earlier drafts of my work. They leave these pages all over the house, with their doodles on one side and my words on the other. It makes house cleaning difficult for me. I'll often pick up a page off the floor, start reading, gasp in horror, and run to the computer to fix some glaring error. Before I know it I've spent an hour at the keyboard making corrections.
That's why the place is still a wreck.
1 comment:
That is so funny!
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