Can of Worms

I have recently developed a phone voice. My voice has captured a gentle, lyrical rhythm as I repeat my scripted greeting, ending in the monotone flatline of a heart moniter expressing certain death. I have become that receptionist. But it is so hard to resist and now that I have realized this tendency, every phone call is an opportunity to satarize myself.

Hyperbole is my M.O.

Amy is in town, we've had fun exploring, watching the Olympics, hanging out, and nertzing. Glorious.

My cat killed a mouse. Good kitty. She left it on the deck. Bad kitty.

I am exhausted to the point of delusion. I hopefully have a good night of sleep ahead but you can never know. As it is I am done with work but have not found the energy to get up from my desk to exit the building. I am working up momentum to get out the door.

Amy found me cute blue moccasins at the thrift store. They have brown cordory on the inside and are delciously comfy. like a scallop.