Lightning-Dono: Apparently they made replying to reviews not allowed because of their new reply system...I'll try and reply to you guys, but don't be disappointed if I don't since that takes more time than simply replying in here! I hope you understand and enjoy this next installment.

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Tenth of Summer

Seeing as summer seems to be tapering off to a close, I've decided to ask the doctor to decline on his daily delivery of the lotion. It seems to be rather useless since there isn't much use for it now that the soothing coolness of the valley is settling in. In fact, I'm in a writing mood today so I'll be more descriptive today. Who knows? Perhaps I'll grow to be a famous writer someday, but I wouldn't count on it. I haven't the patience for such display of emotion in my writing. The most I'll do is put it down on paper and let it flow away from there. Many experienced writers tend to work past their difficulties and weaknesses and continue to allow their plots to blossom. I just simply write down what I think. Unless I'm answering opinion questions, that doesn't get me entirely far. Although I may be able to hit the best-sellers list if I write about an awful farmer by the name of Jack...honestly now, everyone would love to read about his lunacies in hardcover format.

Onto the meat of the day. Chris, in all her pink-and-white plaid glory seems to be calming down – it's the affect that differently colored leaves have on people. They turn from lusciously, graciously green to a deep crimson, shades of yellow, and so many fiery gradients of orange. It's absolutely stunning. I sound like a raving artist and it may seem out of character for me to think such things, but who knows what I hide beneath my cover? After all, everyone has a shield. Everyone has as much passion as their heart and soul can contain. You may never find me writing romance novels, but I certainly can describe the more wonderful things in life. You may not know, but wearing down my wrist joint simply to rant about Jack is just tiring. How long can you write about a stupid farmer who sells his only cow, can't even obtain a single new animal, and still has troubles cooking the most easy of recipes? Sometimes I wish his father were back with us and restore the farm to what it was – a glorified farm that produced the richest of milk. Better yet, have Takakura take over. After all, he's better than Jack could ever be, the little beast.

But that's completely off topic.

Wally is still vigorously exercising and I'm proud to say that the muscles in his arms are growing less tense as the day went by. But either he and Chris have agreed to sever ties forever or made up, because I'm seeing progress with some shadow to it as well. They apparently are avoiding each other, yet...they seem so much happier. You'd think they'd be traumatized if they had recently filed for divorce instead of looking as though they'd be on their way to salvation in a matter of days. Even Hugh seems relaxed. I decided not to pry on it since it may remind them of the past few days they've been so furious at each other over.

I'm seriously questioning the sanity of Muffy at the moment. Either she's planning to go on a diet, do pilates and get fit, or she's going for an anorexic look because she, if possible, looks even skinnier than before. Atleast before this Jack situation she had a full form and looked well fed. Today it looked more like Griffin had padlocked her door while she was asleep and was starving her as well. And somehow she had escaped to live in the street...quite literally. She just can't get that Jack had gotten over her. She wasn't his little lapdog anymore. Muffy was standing next to the Inn watching Jack's farm this afternoon as though she were expecting him to leap down the hill and sail into her arms. I felt such pity towards her I decided to talk to her this afternoon, and I had the most pathetic conversation in the world. After nearing that, my pity gauge just emptied out and fed into a category labeled "don't care". Due to the fact that I have an excellent short-term memory, here is the conversation. Perhaps not word-for-word, but close.

Me: "Do you always have to look so miserable?" (Maybe not the best conversation starter, but it got her to talk.)
Muffy: "It's not like I want to look miserable all the time."
Me: "And who's making you look it?"
Muffy: "Jack." (That's right: Jack. Apparently he's a marionette-controller flying around in a blimp above Muffy controlling her facial muscles. Suuuure.)
Me: "Can't you just walk away from him? He doesn't care about...you anymore."
Muffy: "Yes he does! He's in denial!" (Some people just can't take a hint.)
Me: "And how's that?"
Muffy: "He might think he doesn't like me, but by the end of this year he'll remember and propose to me!" (Someone's been reading one too many fantasy books.)
Me: "You honestly think that?"
Muffy: "Why wouldn't I? He's a loving man!" (Yes, the most loving man ever. I'd seriously reconsider that if I were her.)
Me: "Suit yourself."

That was one of the more worthless things I have heard. How can she still cling to him mentally even though he dumped her so heartlessly? She scares me at times. It's ridiculous how persistent she can be. I hate to say it, but even though I couldn't care less about her and her infatuation over Jack, I fear for her safety. Muffy is just so vulnerable.

Jack offered me a light pickles today with a rather sinister look on his face. I refused and he looked like he had the urge to murder me on the spot for a second. Just because I didn't want to indulge in his poisonous productions? I would've preferred him jumping at me and attempting to knock my lights out; atleast then I'd have a fighting chance. He just gets more devious everyday.

Tim is coming in for room service right now, so I must end the entry.