Kurt Vonnegut’s dark and suspicious view of the world seems to mirror my general feeling about weekdays. And maybe about some people. And about telekinesis.
I walked out the front door this morning wearing a shirt with a stain from spaghetti sauce and realized too late it belonged to the 13-yo. Thankfully, I had a sweater to cover said stain and my belly hanging out.
I’m running on five hours of sleep and this what I have to show for it.