“Is that a poor man’s smore?”
Yes. Yes it is.
I make no apologies.
I have these reports that are due tomorrow, and I’ve been plodding along to finish. It’s a weird kind of writing. Let’s call it, validating something that’s already written. It’s a tedious job to rewrite stuff, but that’s not even the point of this post.
I don’t feel well…I have a migraine that is giving me some great disco lights in my peripheral vision and the disco beat behind my eyes…and I have a weenie cough that I thought was just a weenie cough, only, now, it’s gucky. Gross, and TMI. Sorry.
So that brings me to my snack. I was making coffee, hoping the caffeine might help to a) wake me up, and b) tame the headache, when I saw there was one lonely little graham cracker on the counter. I picked it up and studied it, and lamented it’s naked state, when I announced, “I could spread some fluff on it and squeeze chocolate syrup on it! I can make a pseudo smore!”
My kid looked at me sadly and said, “What is that? A poor man’s smore?”
Yes. Yes it is. Nom nom nom.
Ack! My back!
I am lumbering around the house looking like a wounded Varactyl.
You must be wondering what that is. Here ya go:
I know, a little overly dramatic. My other choice would be to cover my lower back in Ben Gay. I tried that yesterday. It was not a good choice for a number of reasons I will not go into publicly. Thus, I am back to lumbering around and whining loudly.
And begging for your prayers.