03.03.04 :: 2:38 pm

Some time this month, Mr. M and I are roadtripping to Maine for a little cabin-in-the-woods-on-a-lake kind of fun, the Stooshdog in tow.

His friends who live there graciously offered the place to us for any weekend in March. Rental cars and Scrabble and whiskey up in the fresh air sound pretty good to me right about now.

And I think it'll be good for Stoosh to run around and get rid of some of her nervous energy. "She's ornery as hell lately," Mr. M observed.

And this is true. For just the other night I came home to a floor full of emptied trash, and a poo pile on the rug.

And speaking of ornery, I don't know what my bosses have been getting up to but it's given them all a severe case of "sand in their vaginas" and I can't keep any of them off my back long enough to breathe.

How sick of this joint am I? Pretty damned sick. Ebola-sick.

A mani-pedi is in order for after work today.

And now that there's a steady gentleman in my life, I feel like I should get back on the "waxing of the south" tip. It seems like a kind, polite thing to do, even though Mr. M's said he doesn't care what kind of maintenance routine (or lack thereof) I got going down there. So then why am I so self conscious about it? Oh, society! I blame thee! And your pube-less loving ways!

earlier / next