I finally had to admit that my long hair looked awful most of the time. It's glory days were thirty years in the rearview mirror, and now I looked like the crazy guy you don't want to sit next to on the bus. It was time to take drastic measures.
I finally had to admit that my long hair looked awful most of the time. It's glory days were thirty years in the rearview mirror, and now I looked like the crazy guy you don't want to sit next to on the bus. It was time to take drastic measures.
We're one year into the pandemic crisis and, according to some, my hair has also become a disaster.
I don't know what's going on -- but strange things are afoot at my local Fry's Grocery store. Either I have rotten luck -- or the Universe has it in for me.
I hate cleaning up bodies -- especially when they're hidden in my back yard.
I set out to feed a group of unruly African lovebirds that live in my neighborhood. Seems they have high expectations, and somehow it has become a full-time job.
I started writing about my long-ago battle of wits with my goddaughter...um, let's see -- maybe last year? To be honest, I have no idea. I was bad enough keeping track of time before COVID and now every day I'm asking myself "Wait, is today Blursday or Thriday the 81st of Junvember?" Anyway, better late than never, right?
Ever look in the mirror and go 'WTF? I look like I've run out of meds.' Yeah, I'm kind of at that moment right now.
My memory sucks. All I wanted to do was go up to the grocery store. But I just couldn't find my damned wallet.
Thing are getting real with COVID19 as businesses close and events are canceled. Yours truly is stuck at home, so thought I might as well post some thoughts on the matter.
The Houseguest has been a great roommate -- except for when she's a pain in the ass. Like when it comes to certain smells -- like pot pies.