leftovers

It is JULY SEVENTEENTH, right?

Could someone explain, then, why some nitwit outside is shooting off fireworks at 12:58 in the FREAKING A.M.?  Is it “I drank too much Corona and now must blow off my appendages in an apartment parking lot on a random Tuesday morning” day?

Oh, gosh. Well, then, please continue.

In other news:

Chinese, delivered to me by a moderately attractive young man who had a pen for me to sign the CC slip with that was nice to write with: $13, including tip.

Netflix, so that I am never without entertainment: $30 a month

Sudafed nighttime, to fight the massive and constant sinus headache I have Gville in July: $8

Sleeping through most of primetime programming, shutting off my phone, and KNOWING that I am missing bowling with church people, not doing my work, and not being anything but selfish: PRICELESS.

(Yeah, it’s trite and overused, but gosh if it doesn’t really capture the moment. Plus, it’s 1:02 a.m., and I’m in the throws of a sodium hangover.  Cut a girl some slack, will ya?)

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