"What do you want?" I ask.
"What makes you think I want something?" he replies.
"Because you're smiling," I says. "You only smile when you want something."
"Oh, that hurts!" he exclaims.
"Just tell me what you want," I say.
"Can you come in at 5:00 in the morning?"
"Yes," I say.
"Yes? Just like that? Yes? You're not going to argue or fuss or anything? Just yes?" says he.
"Oh, that hurts!" says I.
And that, my friends is why tonight's post will be brief.
An update on the Christmas tree:
Your 'Merica moment:
And the brief, but disgusting observation that I don't know what Rylea found to roll in, but it sure does stink.
It doesn't just stink, it stanks.
That's like stinking on steroids.