Good morning, people. Happy Monday. Can someone tell me why Zaxby’s is spamming the local TV with commercials? Are the deep fried pickles as delicious as they say? Not that it matters, I wouldn’t eat them.
I don’t like pickles, for starters.
Yesterday was a typical Sunday. Brian put HGTV on as soon as the news finished and Mom went outside to smoke. He was digging the vacuum out of the spare room by the time I decided to leave the room because I didn’t want to watch Hilary fuck up someone’s budget on Love It or List It fucking again. Absolutely not. I amused myself with makeup and the fourth season of Supernatural until I made myself presentable.
By the time I finished, he dragged the living room area rug into the backyard. Chaucer could see wildlife in the yard and had a meltdown wanting to go outside. I brought him outside while I ate lunch. He ignored the wildlife. I heard a few grumbles of thunder here and there, but no rain ever came. Whatever afternoon storm was nearby, it wasn’t close enough to soak us.
Later, we had dinner at the Compound. I didn’t eat all the snacks before dinner, didn’t have a slice of lemon cake after dinner, and limited myself to only two cans of soda. I was proud of myself. Then, I snagged two cookies on the way out.
While the afternoon thunderstorms may have been all hat and no cattle, the storms that rolled up after dinner were absolutely wild. There were at least two lightning strikes close by. Judging by the sound of one, I think some poor fool’s metal shed blew up.
There’s no plans for today. In fact, we’ve cancelled or rescheduled most of our regular plans for this week. We’re not going to lunch with the ladies because Mom has PT, and a camping trip will delay her bi-weekly house cleaning job. I planned to wash a load of laundry, but it just started pouring and I think it’s going to be one of those days.
Oh look, it’s sunny again. WTF Florida.
