It’s been one of those rare days when the post-5:00 hours have done a number on me, actually making me wish I was back at work. Nothing serious or anything like that, just annoyances. One such annoyance would be Nomar. Specifically him freaking out while I was holding him and using my inner arm as his personal launch pad. He also took the liberty of relieving me of some of that pesky arm skin I have. Thanks, Nomar, I was getting so tired of having all that skin in the crook of my arm!
Also, how many times will I purchase bread at Trader Joes before I finally remember that it always, always gets moldy after about 36 hours?
Or why is it that Troy must never be out-down by his brother? He presented at my feet his very own cat vomit. A token of his unwavering love and undying affection, no doubt.
I’m of the mind that the very last of my Reeses stash is in order. Only to get it I must traverse into the kitchen and who knows what fresh hell awaits me at the hands of my feline friends… Wish me luck!
**Empire Records reference, anyone?