Conrob

It's a good thing that Jack awoke me before dawn this morning, though I was irritated at first with his incessant stomping and snorting outside the door. The fair weather has him restless and wanting to move about, and though I snapped at him to take his gargantuan black and white hide away from the house, I have to feel rather grateful now, as I have much to record here before I start my day's work. 

Oh, where to begin? I think I must've encountered half of Bree last night, in the space of just a few hours. 

I've sat here and stared at this blank page for nigh an hour now. I had to recork my inkwell for fear it would run dry while I lingered, tortured and indecisive, the pale ivory expanse of parchment mocking me... encouraging me?...ah, who knows.

Now, if only my hands would stop shaking, I might be able to record something.

Conrob.

I've sat another twenty minutes at least. I can't write about him. Not yet. Coward that I am.