The older I get, the more fake-smiling I seem to be doing.
It really should be going in the opposite direction.
The older I get, the more fake-smiling I seem to be doing.
It really should be going in the opposite direction.
Ever since Suzie espoused the glories of the duck umbrella, I’ve been a quacking convert.
Only a few socks are worth darning.
Most aren’t.
(And I’ve never darned a sock in my life, darn it.)
It can be awfully tiresome being the squeaky wheel.
Still, no one squeaks more beautifully than me.
The most beautiful glass isn’t entirely clear.
Are interior design shots all about the flowers?
I would venture they are.
(More on these Ranunculus later…)
If only I’d spent my younger years learning the basics of HTML coding or something to do with computers instead of memorizing the lyrics to ‘Cats’ I might be a semi-rich man, instead of struggling to make ends meet while screaming, “The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious beast!”
Not gonna lie: there have been moments of desperation when I have made that chocolate cake in a mug and microwaved it because there was no time to wait.
Why are Tuesdays the longest days of the week? This morning I looked up from what felt like an entire work day gone by and it was only 9 AM. As much as I hate Monday, that day somehow flies by, while Tuesday just slows to a crawl and stays at that pace the whole damn day. One of the work-week’s little fuck-overs.
When you get around to cleaning up the kitchen cupboards and some of the shit expired in 2011… this is where we are now.
Finally reached the age where I no longer feel comfortable driving at night.
Especially when it’s raining.
Pistachios: are they really worth the trouble?