What the fuck?
It was Sunday afternoon. Mac was napping and Chris was watching the O’s game while I prepped dinner.
Me: “Have we even driven the convertible in the past two weekends?”
Chris: “I don’t know”. . .blows his nose into a CLOTH napkin!!! He’s apparently suffering from the same eck that Huggy Bear has.
Me: “Well how much do you think my car is worth?”
Chris: “A few grand. . .why?”
Me: “Because I’ve been eying up the Passat Wagons. . .a used one maybe? No car payments. I’d even take a Jetta wagon.”
And then perhaps it would be appropriate if I had slit my throat with a paring knife. . .
TO DO: Research bus transport. . .
TO STOP: Dreaming about a fucking station wagon. What the hell is wrong with you woman?!