Happy Monday. It is Monday, correct? I don’t know anymore.
Mal is wandering around the house. He normally spends his time in the bedroom, sleeping on my bed all day. He’s a brave little cat today, and is standing on a table and looking out the front window. Chaucer is probably hiding somewhere, hoping Knickknack walks close enough for him to scare her.
Yesterday, we went to the in-laws for BBQ. If it’s any wonder why I’ve probably dropped at least 10 lbs since I got here, it’s because I don’t like half the meats. “Just use your fingers to get some ribs!” they told me. IT’S ON THE BONE I WON’T TOUCH IT AND YOUR CAN JUST FUCK OFF WITH THAT MACARONI SALAD.
Today we’re going to get Mom‘s hair cut. This is a huge point of gossip in the family, apparently. I don’t understand why my mother’s haircut is such a topic of discussion with them all, but they all have opinions. They all think I should be involved in the discussion. It came up on Wednesday night, and again yesterday. And they all think their opinions matter. I find that to be the most annoying thing.
I’m sorry, but wouldn’t consider any of their opinions of even the most basic of topics. I simply can’t take your opinions seriously if your nonstop verbal diarrhea involves how Biden is inviting brown people to invade the US to take your social security checks. Doubly so when you tell us how you only enjoy Queen Latifah’s TV show because, and this is an exact quote, “she’s not a jive ass n—–“. Full stop.
