It’s so strange what a simple shower can change. Your funky mood can just wash right off along with that stain on your chest you got from eating spaghetti with no shirt on.
Here I am, fresh out, feeling like Florida Evans and I love it. I got dressed, washed the dishes, filled the ice trays, cleaned the counter, and waiting to make lunch…
Holy Gandhi J. Christ, I’ve become Lucille Ball!!!!
Is this what it was like? If I say Rickyyyyyy will some strange Cuban man come running through my door with maracas while screaming “babalou!”? I sure hope not.
Maybe if I’m lucky Crystal will pop in with a vuvuzela so we can play video games and scream GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL everytime one of us wins a round.