Nope, I'm not refering to my skivvies, for which I assume we're all happy about.
No, Ralph's Drawers, which my wife will attest to, is a cleaner concept, if marginally.
No, Ralph's Drawers, which my wife will attest to, is a cleaner concept, if marginally.
You see, we all have a
drawer, in my case several, into which we toss our possessions because they don't fit neatly elsewhere. Unable to figure out how
to organize these loose items correctly, we mash the little misfits into some dark
and motley drawer, pushing and twisting until the drawer is almost impossible to close.
Well, writing, for me, has becoming a similar
venture.
Despite having several venues in which I write, I still find
myself with pieces of writing --messages, vignettes, anecdotes, email
blasts, and bathroom-wall diatribes (hmmm... maybe not so much this last one)--
that just don't easily fit into the other drawers of my written discourse.
So, like any other lazy Joe, I've
learned to adapt.
I'm officially cramming all of my ill-fitting writing into a nearby and available online drawer, i.e. this blog. And, because of this eclectic approach, you'll never know what you'll find as you root through my online drawers. (Rightto, same as my real life drawers.)
I'm officially cramming all of my ill-fitting writing into a nearby and available online drawer, i.e. this blog. And, because of this eclectic approach, you'll never know what you'll find as you root through my online drawers. (Rightto, same as my real life drawers.)
Let the double-entendres, non-sequiters, grammactically offensive structures, and highly embellished anecdotes begin!
