I am not by nature or trade, a “TGIF” person. My schedule is not a 9-5 Monday to Friday gig. It is an anytime, anyplace, by hook or by crook, have fun when you can and work around the clock when you must kind of gig.
At this moment though, I am thanking God it is Friday. The van is broke down in the driveway, deadlines for incredibly important documents are looming, and laundry mountain has sloughed off of the couch and into the kitchen, where it is bumping against dish mountain and threatening to set off a tectonic chain of domestic events that will likely result in a full garbage can, but no clean underwear or bowls with which to eat my flaxseed oil, walnut, and plain yogurt covered oatmeal. Then where will I be?
I am going to have to break the piggy bank on my patience and tolerance fund and spend liberally (you know- because liberals like to spend apparently?) if I am going to make it to the latter part of the day when things are scheduled to take a definitive turn in a pro-Juancho direction.
I live in that same mountain range. Very rarefied atmosphere.
“oh, I saw you on tv the other night; do you have 48 cats and a gaming lair?”
“less oily oatmeal will solve your mountains of dirty underwear issue.”
Which would you pick.
Man, sometimes you have to go with both. Well done. I hereby accept your burn.
Time for that housekeeper, Juanchito. One could put order there in no time flat.
Have you been spying on our house for inspiration on this one?