It has come to this... not stealing time from my employer, rather, updating my blog from a distance. Giving myself a chance to reflect on the day before I write a rant about the little shits our society spoils in pools of wealth.
However, my experience today was too positive. I must search for alternate topics...
Four days out of surgery and this kid still walks like an old man. He waddles from the lightswitch to the closet like a feeble octagenarian. At least he can laugh about it on percocet. Thank you, percocet. I've been reading Matt The BFG because not only does he genuinely like it, but if he feels tired he can fall asleep and blame it on the drugs. Every so often I will wake him with my sheer disbelief at yet another of Roald Dahl's fabricated words: Snozzcumbers as big as half a man? Golden Fizzwizards? Manhuggers? Runty little scumscrewers?
Bunghole.
Are you serious?
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