I need to make copies.

The machine is jammed.
The toner is low.
There's a line at the counter and two ladies chatting in front of the other machine.
One might have something to copy but hasn't done it yet, or has already finished.
Regardless, they aren't moving.
I don't think they even know I'm there.
That's pretty much how this day has gone.
Oh well, at least I found the twine.

"I'm only going to cut out the pieces."

An hour or so later, the coin purse is done.

Stinging nettles.

No fun at all.
(Rose thorns, too.)

Ugh.

Sometimes I want to apologize to everyone I gave this book to.
This would be one of those times.