Thank heavens. Because even the idea of having to cook is making me tired. I can bring leftovers to a potluck, right? Or am I overstepping the “casual” line? And is coming to the potluck in jammies bad form?
This week people are continuing their quest for details about the penmanship of a certain six-foot-tall, blonde, HGTV star. I now refuse to use the line here. I’m convinced I am creating a self-fulfilling prophecy forcing google readers to come here when they want to know about this certain HGTV star’s, whose initials are C.O., pen and paper skills. And eventually, someone who comes to my blog for this reason is going to say, “What the heck! Why the hell am I here?” and leave nasty comments.
The cats apparently think we are courting death, doom and disaster when we are outside. I’m not sure what vile creatures they fear will eat us alive, thereby rendering themselves trapped without opposable thumbs to open the kibble cannister, but they’ve got to be big nasty ones. Because when we are outside, they wail. They can’t stand it. Topaz will cry her little cry, until Nimbus comes and yowls his massive yowl. At which point she will shut up and look at him in a really patronizing way that says, “What are you crying for you, you big baby?” But what they will then do is claw at the screen. Or climb the screen. Which slashes nasty gouges in it. Nasty gouges in our large, custom sized screens to go on our large, custom-sized sliding glass doors. We can’t afford to replace the screens but if the holes get any bigger we will be springing for some duct tape. And a shippable pet carrier.
Points for You!
This week, reader points go to Brea at Brea’s Air, for this wonderful line in response to my lamenting the deteriorating condition of the master bedroom and what it might do to might point total: “Close the door and no points fall out.”
This is a stroke of brilliance and gets Brea +7 Martha Points.
Ok, that’s a wrap, folks. Hop on back over to June Cleaver Nirvana to carry on with pot-licking. I mean pot-lucking!