There's just an empty space
So what is it that has me thinking my life is as gay as a pack of Phil Collins lyrics?
Well I'll tell you what. After a day of an exhaustion too crushing to leave me able to reassemble the blender and thus walking away from the whole kitchen. And after a weekend of varied parental ruin resplendent with cheap discipline and poor or no napping, 100% nitrate based nutrional solutions... After all that I was given this tonight!
Ah, the Fresco. A robust replacment for the five-year-old Bonjourno I had to retire last month. The beloved oh-so-barely-out of the doghouse p-man took it upon himself to pick this up for me today as a postscript to his workin' man barista -based interlude circa 10:25.
Bless you, husband.
You know for a week or so I have been pretty deep in the 'what am I doing here?' I miss work. I miss the opportunities to kick butt and be heard. I miss my old latte for breakfast, latte for lunch, followed by a sensible dinner routine. I think it was when the Bonjourno gave out that was the straw that broke this camel's back. While I can persist in this imp driven impatience-o-vision universe it is less rosy without the comfort of fuzzy milk.
Honey, you're the only one who really knew me at all.