Y’all, there’s no junk food in my house. In my fridge is an almost empty gallon of green tea and an almost empty gallon of cran-raspberry juice, along with a lot of beer and wine.
I’m not going to say one thing or another about it to him; he’d really like to be driving the van again for work and this is what it takes.
But America, he’s a pill. Oh lord is he miserable and grouchy. I can’t imagine what he was like a week ago. Thank goodness I was in Montreal.
If you’re praying for my family, for any reason, pray for our Dear Butcher.
Or, good Lord, pray that the government finally takes Peter Tosh’s advice.