LittleBit is picking up a $5 pizza for me from Little Caesar, before she goes to school. [TAKS tests today; she doesn’t have to be there until noon.]
So the next decision is: a two-hour nap, or one that lasts all afternoon?
I am going to have to pick out a couple of rows on Middlest’s French Sock, as I made a spectacularly silly mistake while communing with the porcelain diety last night. That can wait until after my nap.
My anesthesiologist was a nice middle-aged man with silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard. I would have drooled, except that I hadn’t had anything to drink since before midnight. Ergo, no spit.
How hungry was I? So hungry that this made me hungrier! I kept wondering what they’d put on the window to keep him that busy. Yeah, I’m not a dog person; I don’t know what’s normal and what’s not. And you’ll note that I automatically assumed it was a male dog. Remind me to get my consciousness lifted, once I re-establish the correct chocolate/oxygen mix in my own personal carburetor.
But first, I am rounding up volunteers for the Tush Kazoo band. I do believe that I will master The Flight of the Bumblebee before I get rid of all the air they pumped into me. [Yeah, I’m still a little loopy; why do you ask?]
And oh, by the way, the Book of Mormon is still true.