Dog: I didn’t do it.
Cat: You left a cup on the table. Now it’s on the floor. Clearly, this is your fault.
I don’t want to read my texts. My mom sent me 5 fast, long texts in a row just now & I glanced & the last text is just the dictionary definition of the word “hullabaloo.”
My little dog: *knocks garbage can over in kitchen, walks by me with pizza crust hanging out of his mouth like a cigar*
If a person talks at you for more than 7 minutes straight without pause in a “conversation,” you should be able to go into screen saver mode.
“UGH. You know how fast the grass grows in the Spring,” she mowned.
If someone says, “I hate to ask you this, BUT…” you should have 4 designated friends who will jump on you & carry you out of the building like secret service agents.
Had my arms full of groceries, struggled to get my front door unlocked, & the door caught the back of my shoe & pulled it right off. I stumbled & dropped my groceries. Shoe stayed stuck outside my door. Worst remake of Cinderella ever.
*warming hands near fire* In my day, we were tough. It would take you so long to get undressed after coming indoors that it was time to go out again. People lost hours, days. Some died mid-layer.
If you don’t like giving advice just look sage & say one completely unrelated thing you know to be true & let the other person assume it’s a metaphor.
Sorry. Can’t. I live in a small town. You know what that’s like. *vague gesture* Super busy avoiding all men from a Big City who might have recently inherited a tree farm & are liable to stay here after being charmed into rediscovering the true meaning of Christmas.
And I’m not saying Big Foot is real or not real or bashing anyone’s beliefs. All I can say about that is if Big Foot suddenly shows up at my house, I’m not wasting time with photos. I’d just ask if he knows anything about plumbing or electrical.
My little dog has gotten into the box of treats & hidden them throughout the house. Every now & then he eats one. He’s strutting around like he pulled off a bank heist & is spending the cash slowly.
Friend: How are you doing?
Me *reading a book about the identification & use of medicinal plants, so that I have a viable apocalypse skill to barter on the offchance of a complete societal breakdown* Fine.
Can’t. I’m cleaning my pantry or as I like to call it “Making my back hurt by pointlessly rearranging my food.”
13: *staring glumly at garden* Why so much spinach?