Doctor, is there nothing I can take?

The happier a writer is, the less she writes. This is my theory, or at least an excuse. I did have a coconut craving this week though, the way normal people crave crisps or coffee. So I made coconut balls and they beat the Mars machine hands down. Especially good in the small, now very very hot office, straight from the fridge, sliced in half with the communal knife at one’s desk. But I’m still tinkering so the recipe can wait. Famale has said her piece. The rest is up to the gods.

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