The fan forces me to put the sweater on. It seems I live in at least a momentary rainforest. The dryer is warming up some towels and the hike provides a deadline for the creation of at least one of the two lemon pies. Pork and chicken, two proteins in one meal and sauces that the girls pick. Buggs of the Patches has yet to find me.
It's a good time for those straw bristles to hit the floor but the mop ain't about sound at all. It's about him and the candles. And yes, I must dust.
Today I am grateful for a Saturday morning and the work I'll do to music. I know Michael did it first.
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