Hey! Who stole my weekend? Seems like just a few minutes ago it was Friday night. Here we are at the dawn of a new work week, and I still have stuff to do. Today's stuff includes readin', writin', and roastin'.
I have a new book I'm dying to dive into. It's called Dad is Fat, by Jim Gaffigan, the comedian. Something tells me it will give me a chuckle.
There are two stories wrestling around in my head, fighting to be first in line for me to procrastinate. I'm getting them done tonight. I swear. That intra-noggin horseplay has got to stop. It's all fun and games until somebody loses their medulla oblongata. And without your medulla oblongata, you're nothing.
I have a roast in the oven. That's nothing like a bun in the oven. Though they both make a woman fatter. No, this is a real roast, or as we used to call it around my childhood home: Sunday food. It's our first roast without Genius. Sniff. Sniff. No, I'm not trying to pick up his scent. I'm showing emotion through my fingertips. The keyboard lacks nuance.
And I lack a desire to continue typing.
One (or more) of those three items listed above is going to be delicious.