I went to the bookstore.
It was naughty of me.
I am not allowed in bookstores. I can't ever be good in them.
I go to the library, and stuff tote bags full of books that pique my interest, and return them three weeks late, but only pay $5.
Libraries are made for people like me, and elderly folk.
I have trouble in the bookstore.
But I think today I did pretty good. I picked up six books, but only left with three, one a biography on Ann Boleyn just cuz I get into phases, a book of essays by Ray Bradbury on writing, and a book by Janet Evanovich because she writes in a style I like, and I want to try to mimic, even though I can't spell her name, and I don't want to write mystery.
I was so very naughty.
THEN I went to the Office Depot.
This is just as hazardous for writers-to-be. LOTS of organizers, papers, boxes, writing THINGS....
I behaved. I only picked up ten pieces of poster paper to do a timeline on, and some sticky notes.
So very good, after being so very naughty.