“Everything went pear~shaped,” he confesses.
Oh my, no wonder your food comes out in messes.
The sudden rain gusts down in slants,
My tresses go straight into ringlets.
My hair predicts humidity, precipitation, and barometric pressure better than any meteorologist.
I leave the house with it styled one way to return, from a walk, with a totally different look.
It is the Scotch-Irish of my bloodline.
Bearing more neanderthal DNA than the majority.
Whatever that may mean.
Squeak, the cat, goes exorcist onto the door’s screen,
Startling me by meeting mine eyes with hers at an unnatural, five foot level.
Paws splayed in strange ways.
Twenty minutes later, she is asleep in her bubble wrap insulated, amazon box.
What a joy to see that what I perceive as trash becomes a highly prized toy.
“Oh my, no wonder your food comes out in messes.”
Had a little chuckle at this and thoroughly enjoyed this lyrical expose’!
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Smile. I cribbed that line from the chef of I restaurant I used to work in. We’d get slammed and the (usually on point) chef would fall apart. He could not deal with being in the weeds.
“Hector, table 21 has been waiting over an hour for their mains. What’s up?”
“Dunno. Everything went pear-shaped, Case-Face!”
Thanks for the time in mind, Jaya.
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🤣 I feel ya! Used to work in hectic kitchens myself.
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A bubble wrap insulated box sounds so heavenly right now 😭
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One would think Squeak, would hesitate, let’s say shy away, from tweaking any neanderthal DNA…which may give clue to a retreat into Bezos bedding.
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Fantastic!
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When you say ‘Scotch-Irish’…x
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