Some people are more restrained than I am, and actually WAIT until they have something to post to post.
Those people? Are not me.
So get ready, while I try to turn nothing into something. A sparkly, shiny, heart-shaped something, with sprinkles. Because it's Monday, and Mondays need sprinkles.
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It's dangerous to walk into a music store looking to buy a practice pad and some drum sticks, when all you can focus on are the awesome drum sets.
It's really dangerous to be informed that one of the kits is ridiculously inexpensive.
It's even MORE really dangerous to do this after one has finally and at long last cleared out the extra boxes of ancient history that have been cluttering up one whole corner of the bedroom for many months.
One whole corner that just so happens to be drum-kit sized.
I'm just saying, is all.
Dangerous.
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I feel like yesterday was spent running. Oh wait, it was.
Let's see. Cleaned out the aforementioned corner of the room, moved all the extra keerap that I decided I couldn't part with down to the storage unit (the Tiny House, for all its charm, doesn't hold much in the way of 'extras,' you see), did the music store run (whee!), went to WalMart for essentials like 'food' and 'change sorter machine,' bought some new lumber for the bit of trim on the back of the house that was growing MUSHROOMS on it, decamped all the stuff that was on the back porch for greener pastures (literally, the backyard) in preparation for priming and painting the 3/5ths of the house that we didn't get to when we did the first 3/5ths last week, and them scraped and primed the balding spots.
By about 6 p.m., I was so VERY ready for someone to say 'OK, Tiff, you're finished.' So, me being the only one around who was going to tell me what to do, I did.
And then made a dinner so frigging delicious that I impressed myself. SRSLY, y'all. If you like Indian food but don't like waiting around for all the Indianness of it to come together (because Lordy, those recipes can take a LONG time to be done allaway through to the end), then you should have been at the Tiny House last night around 9 for supper.
Bonus? The house smelled absolutefrigginlootlee fantastic.
Too bad I burned the English muffins this morning. Now the house just smells like burnt bread. Jeez.
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The indoor feline at the TH is having her girly bits removed today.
Thank GOD!!
Cats in heat are no fun at all, and they're really gross, squirming around with their asses up in the air, yowling for 'something' to help them relieve the awful fire in their loins.
Hay kitty, I gotcher fire-relief right here. It's called a scalpel, and the nice doctor is going to use it to help you! See? Shiny! Just take a whiff of this here chloroform, and when you wake up you won't be a hunka hunka burning love, oh noes. You'll be doped up on kitty tranqs, seeing kitty gods, singing the songs of the ancient moon-faced apple pie people, but you will NOT be het up in the buttal area no more.
And that? Can only be a good thing.
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See how I do? I thought I had nothing, and yet here were are many many words later and I've managed to urp out the contents of part of my weekend in the hope that some of it might spur a comment or perhaps your adoration.
Or both.
If that doesn't do it, here's a question: Thing 2 wants a snake for Christmas. Yes? Or NO?
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