The thing that's great about this job is the time sourcing the items involves no

traveling. I just look online to buy it. It's really as simple as that. While
everyone else is searching for what they can sell, I sit in front of my computer
and buy better stuff for less money and spend a fraction of the time doing it.
She never liked cleaning the sink. It was beyond her comprehension how it got so
dirty so quickly. It seemed that she was forced to clean it every other day. Even
when she was extra careful to keep things clean and orderly, it still ended up
looking like a mess in a couple of days. What she didn't know was there was a tiny
creature living in it that didn't like things neat.
"Are you getting my texts???" she texted to him. He glanced at it and chuckled
under his breath. Of course he was getting them, but if he wasn't getting them, how
would he ever be able to answer? He put the phone down and continued on his
project. He was ignoring her texts and he planned to continue to do so.
My pincher collar is snapped on. Then comes the electric zapper collar. Finally, my
purple at-home collar is taken off and I know I’m going for a walk to the dog park.
I’m so excited to see my friends. I hope Spike or Thunder are there already.
They're the most fun to chase and tumble with. My human is pretty strict with me.
I’m only allowed on the grass and not on the sidewalks. I think she’s afraid I’m
going to jump on the other humans. I don’t understand why everyone else gets to
jump on the benches and run wild on the sidewalks. They don’t listen to their
humans. I know I could ignore mine but if I do she may zap me and it’s just not
worth it. She probably wouldn’t let me back at the dog park if I didn’t listen to
her. I just love the dog park.
He couldn't remember exactly where he had read it, but he was sure that he had. The
fact that she didn't believe him was quite frustrating as he began to search the
Internet to find the article. It wasn't as if it was something that seemed
impossible. Yet she insisted on always seeing the source whenever he stated a fact.
Was it enough? That was the question he kept asking himself. Was being satisfied
enough? He looked around him at everyone yearning to just be satisfied in their
daily life and he had reached that goal. He knew that he was satisfied and he also
knew it wasn't going to be enough.
I'm so confused by your ridiculous meltdown that I must insist on some sort of
explanation for your behavior towards me. It just doesn't make any sense. There's
no way that I deserved the treatment you gave me without an explanation or an
apology for how out of line you have been.
The bush began to shake. Brad couldn't see what was causing it to shake, but he
didn't care. he had a pretty good idea about what was going on and what was
happening. He was so confident that he approached the bush carefree and with a
smile on his face. That all changed the instant he realized what was actually
behind the bush.
Indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her
consciousness, filled her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow,
like a mist passing across her soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it
was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly upbraiding her husband, lamenting at
Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was
just having a good cry all to herself. The mosquitoes made merry over her, biting
her firm, round arms and nipping at her bare insteps.
He wandered down the stairs and into the basement. The damp, musty smell of unuse
hung in the air. A single, small window let in a glimmer of light, but this simply
made the shadows in the basement deeper. He inhaled deeply and looked around at a
mess that had been accumulating for over 25 years. He was positive that this was
the place he wanted to live.
Betty decided to write a short story and she was sure it was going to be amazing.
She had already written it in her head and each time she thought about it she
grinned from ear to ear knowing how wonderful it would be. She could imagine the
accolades coming in and the praise she would receive for creating such a wonderful
piece. She was therefore extremely frustrated when she actually sat down to write
the short story and the story that was so beautiful inside her head refused to come
out that way on paper.