The Skipping Needle

Just call me Ol’ Phonograph Head.

Put a surprise, unavoidable duty in my path and my brain starts skipping like a needle on a scratched record.

All last night, I couldn’t stop worrying, consternating, all-around obsessing over a simple case of babysitting my nephew this afternoon. All sorts of tactical nonsense kept tumbling around in my head.

Any rational concerns?

Of course not.

Just junk and noise.

Why can’t my freaking head play Sinatra or something?

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

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