Once I had about 10 cents to my name.
At least twice every hour, I think about Shamus McDog, who lived for nine years.
For the past three days in a row, I wrote for eight hours straight.
The deadline for my book is in four months, which will mean the whole thing will get written in seven.
Five of my friends are my best friends, six if you count Mauro.
Mauro has lived in our house for six years, and I’ve been here for five.
I’ve written seven chapters for the book, but only four of them are almost done.
Eight days ago, I wrote for only three hours straight.
Nine years is not a long time for a dog to live, so it’s good we had two.
I could probably find $10 worth of change in my house, if I had the time one day.