Anyway, now I've been brought low and I have no one to blame but myself.
Speaking of blame, I needed someone to point a finger at yesterday. I was served up a big old steamy manure pie, made out of a one week lapse between policies in Workman's Comp, a tire exploding in an employees face, the subsequent ambulance ride and ER visit, a teenage son missing 30 (not even exaggerating) assignments and a few other surprisingly expensive and aggravating ingredients. You know, to give it savor.
I could barely contain myself while I sat mouth breathing in my bedroom chair, as I tried to consume the entire dessert myself. Fortunately, Sterling came in to take his fair share, and together we licked the platter clean.
Which makes me grateful for a husband who knows the difference between chocolate and cow dung, and that only one of those is his wife's favorite. And who takes a misfired bullet now and again when the gun is in her hand and she's swinging it around in wild eyed frenzy.
But other than that, I just have this miserable cold that makes it impossible to think clearly, or be funny, or be kind, or be generous, or be creative, or be productive.
And this time, I blame...how 'bout the Unions? Yeah. Them. Stupid Unions.