As anyone who's ever started a writing project of any kind will know, muses tend to disappear on vacation at the least opportune moments. My muse, who's been hanging around for a while, drinking my tea and eating my chocolate-covered pretzels (more on those later) and generally being kind and benevolent, has deserted me. Right in the middle of a
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Because we all know where that gets you.
And have you tried eating pasta with Mizzithra cheese? Like you can get at the Old Spaghetti Factory? Apparently Homer ate only that while writing The Illiad. I mean, not from the Old Spaghetti Factory. He just ate the pasta.
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Did he? Really? Because I could do that, so long as I had my trusty tea and chocolate-covered pretzels as well.
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But I do get stuff done on the rare occasions mine hangs around. The very rare occasions. (More's the pity. Can't get just to her hanging around...)
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