Phooey, on this grand sunny morning, I have to go to work to fill in for one of my fellow midwives. I wanted to lounge on the couch, read the rest of the paper and inspect the aphid-ridden plant in my garden. But instead I get to get dressed in my work clothes (ie. not my ratty bathrobe), comb my hair and put on shoes.
Lola is curled up on the rocking chair, Hugo is by my elbow and Felix is in his dog bed surrounded by 43 dog toys. THEY don't have to work, they never have to work.
Phooey.
And drat.
1 comment:
I'm about to put on a bra myself.
Not for work, just to go to the library.
Oh well. Not that bad.
I hope your day turns out okay, sweet woman.
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