It feels weird not to check Twitter before bed.
This the tweet I almost posted last night – before I remembered that in order to do so, I’d have to log-in to Twitter.
Immediately afterward I debated whether I was allowed to read e-mail notifications of DM’s. (Can I?)
This could be a long week.
It feels weird.
My mind automatically forms sub-140 character soundbites:
Who was the idiot who decided orange and cranberry belong in the same muffin?
Confession: I have officially eaten more Revision Skittles than we distributed to trick-or-treaters.
Has anyone read GIRL IN THE ARENA? I like the story, but am struggling with the lack of “”marks.
How will I share my excitement about the new Jesse McCartney song “Body Language”? Or confess my St. Matt-mocked crush on him? Or share how I caught St. Matt humming the tune after I played it on repeat for an hour. *gigglefit*
The worst part, however, will be not knowing what’s going on with everyone else. So if you could all e-mail me regular updates of your day, that’d be great. I won’t even limit you to 140 characters.