"Branch manager." How do you stand the hilarity?
It turns out a huge part of my cool old tree fell down. We had serious rain night before last, and I have no idea why it waited till last night to collapse, but what I can say is Dear Ned. You gots you a tree to clean up. I tried to move it myself and pfft.
As I was photographing this disaster in my polka-dot robe, guess who just waltzed out the front door? ware mom? ware mom? need mom. ware–chitz. she see edz.
Oh, come here, you moron.
I just want you to know that after I put up that last picture, my mouse stopped working, so I changed the damn batteries and…nothing. NOTHING. I did the technical trick where you beat the crap out of the mouse and still, nothing. So I did the obvious thing. I called Marvin. He made me unplug my computer and plug it back in, and for a terrifying moment there was blackness, just like in my soul, and then boom. Computer was on, mouse worked.
So now I'm pressed for time, and wanted to tell you how I went to yoga in the park with Bitchy Resting Face Alex and TinaDoris last night, but now there's no time to tell about it. Fleeta had also said she was gonna go, then said she had plans. "I'm gonna have to blog about you canceling," I warned.
"Go ahead, but if you put in that awful picture you always use for me, I'm gonna kill you."
So I got up and took a picture of here right then and there, and here's Fleeta's Official New Photo®.
Tonight Ned and I are looking at a house to rent, which we will probably not take because they want nine hundred million dollars a month, but OH, it's lovely and is half a mile from my work and also it has four bedrooms so we can ignore each other if we want. So what'll happen is I'll look at it and get emotionally attached and then feel bad I can't live there. Kind of like every time I visited San Francisco back when I lived in LA.
June, branching out.