When I write my new book, that's what I'm calling it. "Temper-ature tantrums" AND I CALL COMSIE BACKSIES.
Today, the weather warmed to 20 degrees and suddenly I couldn't drive without rolling down my windows. It was like god wanted me to practice for my week of Mexi-Go crazy. The temps got me so excited, I practically flashed neighboring motorists because I knew I could do it and my baby-feeders wouldn't freeze.
But although the weather warmed, local brain cells didn't.
As I left the cop shop today (my newest meet-market... for meeting men, you know) a gentleman no taller, no older and no acquaintance of mine said he'd seen me before.
Mind you, I had JUST passed him. Like, said excuse me, fumbled for my keys and went about my business. I turned my head, reached for my door handle and...
"HEY. I seen you at that spaghetti supper."
Yes, "seen you." That's how you know he's local.
Uh... the one for the Humane Society, I said? Two weeks ago?
Excuse me but, did I have something stuck in my teeth that night? Had my hair fallen flat? Was it my abnormally green coat(s)? No, it couldn't be... I know, it was my middle toe's stature compare to my big one, wasn't it? I knew that would get me in trouble. How embarrassing. But more importantly...
How does a dude look at a lady for one second and remember exactly where he last saw her?
I didn't stick around to know the answer.
As I was leaving, I double checked the signage. I meant to drive to the police station, but maybe I'd wound up at the state hospital instead...
An open letter to the pet sitter that we probably won’t send because we’re not monsters and also we don’t want her to run away. - Next week we’re going on a road trip from Washington to Colorado so we hired a pet-sitter to watch the cats and Lizard Bordan and keep us from being robbed...
1 day ago