We’re jumping right in today because there’s not a lot of time left before we die and also because I want you to experience a thing that happened exactly as Husband experienced it. You know, for a nice change of pace.
Don’t stop now – keep reading!
Quick update on Clara: she’s doing fine.
Look, I’ll even provide proof of life:
Sorry I didn’t have today’s newspaper to prop up with her, but I figured the cash would be enough to help you overlook that detail. We good?
You wouldn’t know this, because you don’t live with us, but one of Husband’s favorite things to do with a joke is kill it.
Just a quick one today.
Super quick. Practically a one-liner, really.
I’m not busy or anything, I’m just pretty sure I’m going to piss a lot of people off with this one and I want to get it over with and move on to the torch-and-pitchfork stage.
So here’s a thing that’s happening right now: the brindle dog-
(this one)
-has started requiring that she be tucked in at night.
Everyone’s aware I’ve had a rough time of it lately, yeah? I mean, I don’t need to go into all the reasons I can’t handle even one more thing going wrong right now—you just understand, because you’ve been following along and you get me, right?
Y’all, Clara started dropping leaves.
What’s worse, the lovely people who gave her to me have moved away.
What’s that? You don’t see how that’s relevant? Clearly you’ve forgotten my many issues surrounding gifts.
