I was looking pretty tip-top last weekend. The butt police didn’t arrest my mom, and things were returning to normal. I ate my food and took my pills. Then, I listened to my mom & dad saying: “Hey, Minn is doing really well. We haven’t wanted to stress her out, but she’s doing fine; maybe we can give her a b***”. As in the word that rhymes with math and cannot be spoken.
Time to get weird. I decided to confound my mom with yet another eating idiosyncrasy. I’ve joined legion with my sister. She hates leftovers, and now I do, too. If it’s been in the fridge or freezer and zapped in the microwave, I want nothing to do with it. But, if it’s hot off the stove, I’ll dig in:
So long as it doesn’t have any salmon in it. I’ve decided to reject salmon. Unless, of course, you put it in the dishwasher or garbage. Then I want it.
Oh, I’ve also decided to stop taking my pills unless they’re covered in a forbidden blanket of goodness (think cheese, butter, etc.)
I had a high-quality nap this afternoon:
I love you!