Another evening with the Butcher and Mrs. Wigglebottom sleeping on the couch with the TV on. Thank goodness he was only intermittently watching baseball, so I got to spend most of the evening watching NCIS. Weirdly enough, when he wakes up, he keeps flipping to “Dancing with the Stars.” Who would have, in a million years, guessed that the Butcher likes “Dancing with the Stars”?
(Yes, Exador, that is a ratty Russian flag on his shirt. I assume you’ll take some strange comfort in knowing we lay around watching tv resting on our pit bull wearing commie clothing.)