Fatpants, Please?

fridayi pushed through work as hard as i could today- complete with taking down a client’s christmas tree (yes, i know that it is january 31) and the whole time all i could think about was how AWESOME it was going to be to get home, get into my fattest of fat pants, make some tea and write.  if i felt like getting a little crazy, i was going to read.

i decided i was going to make a plate of nachos, put on some Pearl Jam and just ignore what the rest of the world was doing.  simple enough, right?  wrong.

  1. my fattest fat pants weren’t dry yet, so i had to change out of work clothes and into something not as comfy.
  2. i remembered my vow to give the Terror Dogs baths.  so i had to do that and itwas AWFUL.  the dogs LOATHE the hair dryer, you know, if that ever comes up as a question for Final Jeopardy.
  3. got some bad news-about, not just being broke- but being REAL REAL broke, and even broke-r.
  4. 6,000 other little shitty annoying things, and now my blood is all angried up and my brain is mush.

knackered

i’m phonin’ this one in kids, i give up.  maybe after a little mindless staring out the window, i’ll be back to good and can do some actual writin’.  until then-

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