“So what,” you ask, fundamentally fed up with all this stalling, “do you need such a whacking great tank for?”
Would you believe I just want a nice space to grow new plants?
To fulfill a promise made to itty bitty me.
Basically, it’s very expensive therapy.[1]
I’ve already warned you we are the absolute worst.
Y’all, there’s no way we didn’t make the naughty list this year.
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.
You know that narcissist test where they ask if you have backup dancers?
No? Never heard of it?
Okay, so it’s this thing, not quite a quiz, and one of the statements is “I often visualize myself with backup dancers/singers.” For the record, I’m pretty sure that was the only one I agreed with, but I can’t remember for sure if there were others because my friends were so freaked out by the backup dancer thing (and the assertion that I need a theme song, too) that that became the topic for the rest of forever.
I was going somewhere with that thought… hang on…
Offspring and I are both musically inclined; this is actually one of like four things we have in common, along with eye color, sarcastic bent, and a hard-wired need to be right.
Husband doesn’t just hate musicals: I’ve literally never heard him sing.
We’ve established that I’m not a grown-up, so nothing I’m about to say should come as a surprise to you.
And yet…
You may have noticed I don’t mention the sportsball here. That’s because it’s not really my thing, generally speaking. This is not a secret.
Looks about right.
