Good morning, world. We’re up. Shawshank put the small terrorist bean in the hallway again, I assume for getting up to hijinks. My only dealing with him was letting him under the blankets to cuddle with me. He woke me up from another weird dream. Why am I dreaming again? It’s weird.
Our Sunday was uneventful. Shawshank worked, I streamed a couple of times, but it was pretty boring. I was sitting on the floor, and the Foot Clan was upset they couldn’t see my feet. I did my makeup on cam, which gets all sorts of wild comments. Someone tried to start shit, as usual. He left, unsuccessful in his attempts.
As usual.
I want to make it very clear that Balatro‘s Purple stake sucks donkey balls. Giant, enormous, hairy donkey balls.
Shawshank has today off. We’re doing chores and brunch.
