Since you asked

One of my sub-roles as concierge/fluffer/ninja/warrior princess/terrorist/fluffer includes editing.

Which is always done before and after everyone else’s normal work hours.

Yesterday I got something done in two hours. Which, considering that prose does not arrive as perfectly as anyone might believe, IS A RECORD, PEOPLE.

And instead of, “Oh Goddess. We bow before your brilliance,” it was more, “Yeah that shouldn’t take that long.”

Instead of answering, I consulted a fellow wounded warrior.

Goddess: How would you spell/capitalize the sound that emanates from your body if someone asks you “Why does it take so long to edit XX?”

Pal: It would be one of those symbols you can’t pronounce, like when Prince changed his name.

Goddess: She wore a Raspberry Beret — and pulled it down over her face and tied it at the neck till she deprived herself of oxygen.

Pal: I think XX does that when s/he sits down to write.

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