I cannot remember a winter as long, as remorseless, as pitiless, as full of huge piles of brown poo in the backyard, as this one. I woke up today and felt the way that medieval people under seige must have felt on Day 6690--what is within reach that I can use to kill myself???
So off I went to the Co-op. And home I came with this:
A potato for baking
A potted Gerbera daisy
Salt and Vinegar potato chips
Edemamae
Rootbeer
Vanity Fair
Vogue
Metropolitan Home
Dwell
Elle Decor
Kahlua
Jellybeans
Chocolate eggs
Chocolate milk
Watermelon
Coffee
If that's not enough to get me through the next 24 hours, I don't know what will.
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