Sore feet: 2
Words written this morno: 1142
My feet hurt. Tanja’s teasing me that I’m writing a novel. I’m living the laptop commercial, sitting on the table on the porch over the lake, drinking coffee and orange juice. We saw a goanna yesterday (I thought it was a basilisk, but the head was wrong) who, upon spying us, took off at speed on his hind legs and plopped into the creek, never to be seen again. I’m keeping an eye out for him, as we’ve probably taken his usual spot. Bad luck, scaly, we booked this place in advance.
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