Meh: Waking up at 7:30 on a Sunday morning and actually having to drag my ass out of bed and be social and friendly… Not really on the list of stuff I’m good at. Nor is it on the list of stuff I want to be good at. But I’ll manage when…
Nice: My parents are visiting and my dad got up early, wandered out for a walk, got the Sunday newspaper, went to the local coffee shop to get all of us breakfast so we wouldn’t have to cook and mess up the kitchen AND he brought me a mocha. Who can complain too much when greeted with that knowledge? Not I. Though I almost spat “Fuck you” at the table when I was told where to sit. Not that I had a problem with my location, I’m just a little surly in the morning.
Fucking Bullshit: Sitting at the table and knocking over my mocha when I’ve had only one sip of it. That sip was enough to tell me that it was a very good mocha and worth drinking. I got to watch that lovely mocha tumble from the table spilling little drops in seeming slow motion until it tumbled to the floor where the lid popped off and it spilled like a rush of muddy flood water over the hardwood floor.
So I’m drinking tea.
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The string of profanities that would have sprung from my mouth after the mocha incident…
bugger.
If I could favorite comments… I would favorite those two.
Fuck would have for sure left my lips…