I'm a failed blogger. I always start too late at night. In fact, I do pretty much everything too late at night.
I'm getting married two weeks from yesterday. And now it's my birthday. I don't like this birthday very much. It's at an inconvenient time. I miss my big celebrations with princess cake.
I feel pretty good, aside from the fact that I may be discovering a food allergy to Ceasar Salads. I don't know how may times I need to eat it and consequently get sick, in order to confirm or deny the speculation.
Amelia is sneezing. It worries me a bit, because it's frequent. I can't tell if she is trying to clear something, or what. Maybe her dad can take her with him to work tomorrow.
Four paragraphs. Not bad for being a zombie.