Here are the tweets I successfully suppressed during the last month.
The opening theme song to Bunheads is man-repellant.
My niece just texted me photo of her dorm room with two of my poster-gifts on the wall. #heartswelling
I was reminded tonight of the idea that the dead are probably very busy. Too busy for the living. Hmm. #fineimbusytoo
I do like the smell of new road.
No twitter before morning pages!
She is not little to herself. She knows who she was before I came along. She knows who she is. (Love Poem to my Cats.)
Chess with someone who blunders more than I do feels like dancing.
Ugh – Chanel in my szechuan! Is it fascist of me to wish restaurateurs would forbid employees from wearing heavy scents? Patrons, too?
Also, restaurants should never play Coldplay. Blood drives, sure. Restaurants, no.
The elderly diner next to me just put on glasses to read his fortune. He left the cookie. #charming
“Winter is coming.” Racing against HBO. 680 pages to go. #GOT #perilsofbeingaslowreader
Why do “impulse” and “irresistible urge” sound better than “compulsion”?
Good lord, Vivaldi’s Concerto for Two Violins in A Minor (RV 522) makes me want to take violin lessons.
Is “xoxx” the marital version of sexting? #yawn
5:38am is too early in the morning to be angry.
I hope cashmere isn’t the fiber equivalent of veal, because this sweater was 82% off and it’s been making my torso happy all day.
Drat. All wool is cruel.
I hate it when I’m torn between wanting to curl up under the covers and wanting to sip my coffee.