That's the thing about muses. You can't always dictate which ones are going to want to talk to you and when. And sometimes muses get sick of you. Well, not of you, in this case. Me. Is it fashion week somewhere, because Kay is MIA.
Two weeks. That's what I've got... two weeks of a bored dog staring at me in bafflement as to why I sit in the same spot...
All. Day. Long.
So close to done, but I need a kick in the pants. Any whip crackers out there?