I have cats.
I have a simmering, rolling irritation with the world.
This has been made worse by the song in my head today: Leif Garret's "I Was Made For Dancing (Ah-ah-ah-all Night Long!).
This is all augmented by having a rummage sale. No one likes having a rummage sale. And yet we have one. Selling our weird, no longer needed items to hapless strangers.
One item I pulled from the crap buffet for your amusement:
Look at his feet.
Look at them!
Fffffffffffreaky!
How are they holding him up?
This lead me to the Richard Simmons store which lead me to other items - just go see for yourself.
I gotta head outside into the heat and watch people pillage.
2 comments:
But do you have that crazy old cat-lady smell?
Having never whiffed and old cat-lade, I'm not sure. I do not smell like a litter box or moth balls. I smell of lavender, coffee and computer paper.
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