Upon awaking, I realized that the entire sole of Mr. B's right foot is bright purple. Now, is it possible that he escaped in the middle of the night, found his way to the Divide, and slaved away stomping and crushing red wine grapes for Luigi and Guissepe? A possiblility.
Mr. B is obsessed with blue O's.
Unfortunately, my mitochondria are all on strike again. Damn.
And a special messge for MARY BUSH:
Mary Bush can kiss my TUSH!!!
Orders placed today over the internet to these select providers:
Cognitive Concepts
Kirkman Labs
Amazon
Sterling Laureate Learning Systems
Bazaar of India
Scientific Learning
Dell
Nordic Naturals
Phew. Shopping complete. Hopefully for . . . . a very, very long time.
Why is it that when one is completely starving, absolutely NOTHING that one finds in one's own fridge or pantry seems remotely satisfying. GRRRR.
Monday's at my house are all about noise. Mowers, blowers, edgers, wackers, you name it. All of the yards are done on Monday because . . . . . .
. . . . you know, the trash comes on Tuesday, and these kind yard guys fill up the bins and then place them out on the street for emptying. Saves the homeowner from having to do that nasty task.
Today is the official day to re-organize Mr. B's closet. Lord have Mercy.
