I barked up the roof of my mouth with Cap’n Crunch this morning, and then hit it perfectly with molten cheese tonight.
Now my mouth has skin stalactites.
I’ll have to baby it tomorrow. Shrimp tomorrow night, and I have gigantic royal reds this year. I mean, each one is the size of a hot dog. Hoping Lea’s sinuses get clearer by then so she can enjoy them too.
Today is Festivus, so the boys and I just watched The Strike twice: once normally and once with commentary on. Two quick and easy errands tomorrow morning, both of which I can handle early enough to avoid the excessive company of my fellow man. Christmas Eve service.
Except for my hard palate hanging in bloody ribbons, life is good.
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