Spectral Cat Toys are Cheaper

 

As I sit—taking a sweaty break from frantically cleaning up after handymen who track in some sort of prehistoric mud that only comes up if you scrape it—writing this post, we are only 72% sure Offspring will be joining us for Thanksgiving.  And, due to the stress of getting the house ready around said workmen, for a holiday dinner that may or may not include Private Squdgee BooBoo—who does not answer my texts when I tell him I am at the grocery store and need him to decide within the next 10 minutes whether he wants my thyme roasted carrots or the brown butter Brussels sprouts—I am admitting to you that you are not getting a written-on-Thanksgiving post-Thanksgiving post.

 

(looks back at weird, long, convoluted sentence)

Professor (in cardigan, sweater vest, tie and glasses) lecturing in front of blackboard concedes jovially, "All right, let's call that close enough"

This isn’t a grammar blog, y’all.

 

Instead, I feel like now is a good time to update you on what the Meth Ghosts have been up to.

 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

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My Meth Ghosts

 

Screenshot of Messenger conversation; I complain about ghost stuff and how Husband doesn't believe but Audrey would, Audrey replies, "Science isn't real. Ghosts are."

 

 

You see that shit right there?  THAT is why Audrey is a good friend.

 

Husband, on the other hand, is a jerkface an engineer and keeps arguing this point with me.

 

I’m about to invite every single one of you over so you can walk around this house and feel how fucking haunted it is.*  Because Husband is full of explanations for everything: I hear voices because of dog toys or the neighbors’ stereos, and I’m not used to the reflective properties of all this brick and tile after our last house (admittedly 80% wood) and I’m just scaring myself… blah, blah, blah.

 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!