1. I'm meant to be writing at this moment.

What I mean is, I'm meant to be writing something else

at this moment. The document I'm meant to be writing is, of course, open in another program
on my computer and is patiently awaiting my attention. Yet here I am plonking down senseless
sentiments in this paragraph because it's easier to do than to work on anything particularly
meaningful. I am grateful for the distraction.

2. There was something special about this little creature. Donna couldn't quite pinpoint what it
was, but she knew with all her heart that it was true. It wasn't a matter of if she was going to try
and save it, but a matter of how she was going to save it. She went back to the car to get a
blanket and when she returned the creature was gone.

3. She had been told time and time again that the most important steps were the first and the last.
It was something that she carried within her in everything she did, but then he showed up and
disrupted everything. He told her that she had it wrong. The first step wasn't the most
important. The last step wasn't the most important. It was the next step that was the most
important.

4. There once lived an old man and an old woman who were peasants and had to work hard to
earn their daily bread. The old man used to go to fix fences and do other odd jobs for the
farmers around, and while he was gone the old woman, his wife, did the work of the house and
worked in their own little plot of land.

5. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of owning this car since he was
ten, and that dream had become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent
hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all too well, and that's
exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer to it.