Last night I hung up my bookselling hat. No regrets.
Today I finally found a source for deli sliced swiss (it only took FOUR stores...) to perfect my egg sandwich. (My entire grocery list: cheese, chips, chocolate. What does that say about me?)
I discovered a brand new thrift store has opened in my neighborhood, across the street from the supermarket-of-last-resort. Among other items, I found a handsewn messenger bag with vegetable print lining. And some practical flats. Score.
I can't seem to stop reading awful chick lit. AWFUL chick lit. I think I'm losing brain cells. (Cause v effect?)
JR is a grabby teething bouncing gurgling chunk of cuteness the likes of which I have never seen.
Human interest photo: Clean laundry puts forth some kind of siren call to the dogs, and we're certainly never lacking a fresh supply. Case in point. Late one night I emptied a load onto the couch. I emptied the next load onto the same spot a little later - when suddenly the laundry moved in the darkness! I turned on the light to discover the intruder - Omie, looking quite pleased to find herself in a laundry sandwich.
Many posts of substance henceforth.