My one fear to my living alone is how much knitting I’m going to get done. And I just might clean out the historical fiction section of the San Rafael public library.
Thank the Good Lord Above I still get drunk texted, else my transition to middle aged boring would be complete.
I kid thee not, I was sitting on my sofa under a flannel blanket, wearing cabled sweater while knitting and watching Oxygen. I was so pooped after work, it was near all I could do to nuke some tomato soup and stick bread and cheese on the Foreman Grill. I set to working with needle and yarn and along comes a text from dear old C, who is apparently out at a bar right now.
“Miller Girl @ bar, wearing the tackiest outfit ever, just gave me a free keychain. Is it even okay to use it if I don’t drink Miller Light? Something to ponder.”
C, I hope you know I’m submitting this to the website you sent me earlier. I’m thinking you can’t be too drunk, as your grammar is still pretty good. Also in consideration? The mangled text I received from J not half an hour later, a much less eloquent comment on current states of being.
“I’m hammered and I have swine flu 😦 poor me and my balls”
Even when I try to be boring, my friends keep my life from being thus.
I have very good friends.