Sunday has rolled in all cuddled up in a wooly bank of fog.

Very atmospheric if it was London in November. Seeing as how it’s northern Florida in late July, however, it really kind of stinks.

But, hey, I’m willing to roll with Mother Nature’s punches.

Ain’t no fog that can take Chloe Stowe down!…


Alright that was admittedly ridiculous.

It was also a big, fat lie. Heavy, grey skies can gather a depression in my head with alarming speed.

However, that’s not going to happen today.

I’m going to be chipper, d**n it!

Frolicking will freaking occur with regularity and glee.

I might even be able to cough up a giggle and a guffaw from time to time…

Which is most likely the reason my dog is scratching pitifully at the front door with her bags packed.


Oh well.

Maybe the fog will lift soon and the creative juices will start to flow again (right now they’re moving at the clip of molasses heading uphill).

Well, wish me luck in surviving this Sunday and I’ll wish you the same.

Until tomorrow…


Acclaimed author of 17 novels (my dogs and mother adore me), World traveler (I’ve felt the Sahara Desert between my toes… still gobsmacked over the stars in the Sahara) And survivor (of three dirty-fighting gremlins named Anxiety, Panic and OCD)… My name is Chloe Stowe. Hello. If you’ve found your way here, you’ve most likely arrived on the coattails of my blog, The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe. Started in 2012, my daily rantings now number in the thousands. Ranging from humorous to moody, poignant to absurd, these tiny tidbits of thought began as a way to get my name “out there.” It has long since morphed into an effort just to “be there” for anybody out there struggling with words or madness, like me. Quick biographical sketch of me? Nerd turned nut at nineteen. In my sophomore year at Auburn University, I was taken out at the knees by severe panic attacks. Chronic anxiety soon joined the dogpile, followed shortly by OCD tendencies. Oh, it was ugly. I eventually had to quit school and soon quit life, as well. I spent a good chunk of my 20’s not able to leave my room. Twenty years later, it’s still can get ugly in my head. Thanks to meds and doctors, however, I am able to lead a better life, now. I still can’t work outside the house, but I can live and smile and write. So, here I am. Broken, but stubbornly present. I hope my voice proves company to someone lonely out there. Thanks for reading! Chloe Stowe

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