Saturday, February 23, 2013

February 23, 1992

[The present tense slips away.]  I'm trying to think back to what I did three days ago, make that two days ago.  I keep thinking, didn't I have an early morning commitment on Tuesday?  Or did I just spend most of my time at home typing up journal entries?  But anyway, back to Sunday.  In the afternon, JoAnna does doors and I input calendar squares.  JoAnna fixes pork chops and fried potatoes for supper.  I try to get into Private Eyes, Jonathan Kellerman's latest novel, but he's such a horrible writer.  I have to force myself to continue.  This guy is the king of sentence fragments, a topnotch candidate for a course in remedial composition.

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