This is possibly the worst part of the week: Sunday night.
I do. not. want to go to work tomorrow.
Ugh.
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Part heaven, part space (and yes, I've found my place)
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you can do it! be strong!
unnnnngggghhhhhhnnngghhnnnggh...
You may interpret the above as any one of the following:
1. A Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goon, unseasonably lurking about in July;
2. Sisyphus getting the damn stone rolled over his toe just as it starts to go backward;
3. A Zombie Thing;
4. The noise I make upon waking up and remembering it's a work day;
5. My dying breath as I swing from a light fixture;
6. Constipation.
7. All of the above.
But NEXT Sunday night, you will have HP to read!!!!!!
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