It's 57 degrees with 25 mph winds. I have doors and windows open. I have been cleaning for hours.
SB sent a text that I did not feel properly reflected the golden rule that it's all about Maggie. It's steroid day. I sent back something snippy.
Some of the neighborhood girls came to the door taking orders for Girl Scout cookies. Frankie ordered three boxes and was beefing that he had to wait. It's steroid day so I told him that sounded like a "YP" not an "MP". He went back to his pals watching the Patriots.
I was washing the laundry room floor on my hands and knees when he came out and told me he cut his hand screwing around with the lawnmower. It's steroid day. I told him I was glad it hurt, stop screwing with the mower.
I feel rundown and oddly breathless from the steroids. I am becoming accustomed to it, but I still skipped Malasada. You have no idea how bummed out I am about it.
I ran to the dump looking like hell. Who would see me at the dump? Yeah, that always works for me. There were more Girl Scouts there and they had actual cookies. So I stopped and bought cookies. I told them that back in 1902 I was the top Brownie cookie salesman in Boston. Actually my Dad was and it was 1968 or 69. He brought the sales sheet into Krohn-Hite where he was a line supervisor (I think that was the title) and sold an incredible amount of cookies. Remember - power tends to corrupt but you can use your powers for good. I've never done it myself....but I have seen it done.
Back to cleaning.