“I do seem to love those angled-tight parking curbs!”
(Luckily, my vehicle climbs the edges of them “like a boss!”)
“I do seem to love those angled-tight parking curbs!”
(Luckily, my vehicle climbs the edges of them “like a boss!”)
Skirt of the day.
“Moth Mind.”
“Help…Me…”
“We had to errect another barrier with chairs this evening.
There are now three layers of gating – including chairs and not including bedroom doors – that must be traversed in clambered, tricky imbalances around and through to get between bedrooms and the kitchen.
I must pragmatically think of this now as if it is a retraining course.”
“The box for my grow light plug can be conscripted with a data transfer cord to recharge my phone?
…
AH-HAHAHAHAHA!
‘It’s A-LI-IVE!!!'”
(16% and rapidly climbing Frankensteined salvation)
“This cord is for data transfer – not recharging.”
“Apparently I need glasses to find my glasses…”
(Small object identification issues)
“Beep-Boop”
(Phone dies)
“A love message says that my man is here, now, right in front of me…
Now I get it!
He’s invisible!
That explains e-ver-y-thiiing!“
One of those “tests” on “Your secret kink archetype.”
(BWAH-HA-HA-HA!)
“It’s like shakin’ a Magic 8 Ball.”
“Reading another ‘love message,’ it definitely was not meant for me because it got two out of three aspects about me very wrong.
Though I value it, I do not cook much – and definitely bomb or ‘corrupt’ the original recipes’ intentions with some serious additional skew.
And, though I’d like my house to be clean, achieving such accomplishment lasts maybe half of a day before it again succumbs to the ravages of engulfing entropy.
Therefore, my efforts must be conserved and targeted.”
Getting up and trying to stand – let alone, walk.
“Nooo – I liked that pillow!”
(Accidently hurling it over and off of the side of the bed and onto the floor as turning to rise and get ready for the day)
“My cankles hurt.
There.
I said it…
Happy?”
“And to think, I had once briefly considered reading that (clearly for me) b.s. book about ’embracing the crone inside of us.’
No…
‘She,’ too, can go fu** herself – and get her nappy, swollen gums the hell off from sucking on my vital bone marrow!”
“I’m A-li-ive!”
Social Club?
(Help! – lol)
In a foreign landscape.
“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you – and I can’t far you very throw!”
(Yell-griping at my gps maps because she keeps misleading my routes, forcing me to go across “perilous” bridges – “I’m gonna eat her soul – I know where she lives!!!”)
“‘I’m losing my sh**…’
But isn’t sh** meant to be lost?
I mean, why would you want to keep it around?
And so, why do we cling to it?”
“It’s like hunting for Easter eggs – but way less fun.”
“I looked at a musical artist’s picture and thought to myself, ‘Ah…she’s goin’ for that Grace Jones look” – having never before seen the imagery in my five beyond half of a century years.
Then I looked down at the artist’s name.
It was Grace Jones.”
Nose tucked behind the false safety of a thin edge of a bed sheet: “Feck It!”
(Passing out briefly again – now for more than one reason)
Chased out of any further trying to sleep in the borrowed bedroom due to the cat leaving a stinky present in its litter box.
“Oh, God – Why?!’“
Biofreeze (TM)
(Or to be honest, the cheaper knock off)
“How are you today, my Babe?”
“Pissed!…Because I got no foood!”
(“He” had promised to make me dinner, yesterday – lol)