My re-publishing nerve needs bulking up or re-firing or something else equally drastic.
It’s time to put another Chloe Stowe classic out for second consumption.
But I’m having a hard time scrounging up the hunger for it.
So, do I press through the blahs or let them just lie until they scatter like a fog in the face of the sun?
Oh, good grief. It’s the poetic blahs.
Run before the meter catches you.