I've heard it said that men's minds are like waffles: their thoughts are organized into neat little squares, and the syrup never spills over into another square.
We women? Our minds are cooked spaghetti, and our thoughts wind about, beginning and ending with one other. Add sauce to that.
Yesterday, I had a pretty clear vision of four books on which I was working. I would then see how far this would go, and plan on evergreen marketing all of them.
So much for that.
The teapot went off today, its siren alerting me to add three projects to my list, so I hurriedly grabbed a notepad and made some lists. Seven is a lucky number, is it not?
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