It’s all about the lack with no lustre today.
Two days ago, I looked like a cockatoo. Go ahead and Google an image. I’ll wait.
Yes, my hair was doing exactly that.
That is not
a lie fiction.
Mr. G, honey confirmed it.
The man-virus carrier is on the mend. That means someone can make a grocery or drugstore run, and we can probably take the Zombie Zone — Enter At Your Own Risk sign off the front door. However, it’s a surprisingly effective solicitation deterrent, so I’m thinking maybe not.
Dear Fisherman’s Friend: If you have a Consumer of the Year award, I would qualify. Totally.
The G-Pup really wants a Fisherman’s Friend, but that’s just the secondhand fumes talkin’.
I am nothing but bruised ribs and seal bark. Oh, and the cockatoo hair. Let’s not forget that.
Appointments — canceled.
Tai Chi — maybe next week or in the afterlife, whichever comes first.
Fitbit — Where is the Find My Fitbit function? Mine either ran off to join the circus where people actually move about, and it has a purpose in life, or it’s riding some yoga gear at the bottom of the laundry hamper. The circus is the more likely scenario. Fitbits have feelings, too.
I can’t wait to play.
I love the packaging for both of these products.
I don’t have much experience growing from seed, so gardening is going to be an adventure this year.
I wouldn’t say I’m a first-time seeder, but less than a hobbyist, more than a novice.
Meanwhile, thinking loudly of you, Atlantic Canada! You’re taking a drumming.
Thursday is just a few baby steps away from Friday.
Note: My intertoobs must be taking in the secondhand fumes, too. I’m having trouble connecting to the Edible Antiques site, so I’ve linked you to Stacey’s Twitter.
Note 2: There has been no reading of posts in my Reader this week. I apologize.