the numbers

Who reads for eight hours in six spots in the house (bed, chair, sofa, table, toilet, porch, ie every room plus outside) minus thirty minutes to cook lunch and another forty-five scattered through the day to play live word games on the internet and it’s barely a hundred pages and a bunch of scraps of paper with illegible notes?  I do, said the domesticated animal.  But then, end of the day, in some amount of minutes approaching six o’clock, the first shiny new sentences–eight of them in a little bundle–of a chapter I call “four.”

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