end of my saturday and my feet are in desperate need of a good rubdown and i’ve realized i have chocolate on my toes and in my hair and of course my little white top is speckled as i foolishly made chocolates without my apron. it felt more like spring than summer and i was told i should’ve been born in the south because i love to sit out on my front porch and watch the world go by and i even sold a batch of truffles to a lady met at the workshop for her son in the air force in europe. i am a run-on sentence and yet nothing is escaping my lips. my throat is tired and my knees are weak and my big soft comforter beckons. i don’t know if i even want to dream tonight, i just know i want the coolness of the pillow against my cheek and the warmth of my thoughts and imagination wrapped around me softly.