happy weekend, one and all. as you’re reading this, i’m actually at the orthopedic surgeon’s, hoping this cast is coming off or, at the very least, made smaller and more manageable. i hoped for that on my last visit, but alas, no. one finger typing grows wearisome, and not to gross you out, but i keep thinking i smell a decaying vase of dead chrysanthemums only to discover it’s my own arm. casts are gross — bleck. fingers are literally crossed. on to prettier things — have a great weekend, everyone. xo, v.
© 2024 victoria smith
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