Saturday, March 22, 2008

Unlucky O’ The Irish

Sure, it's just a few days late, but damnit. The cat smells Irish Spring fresh. Someone rubbed a bar of the stuff all over the cat. That begs the question, of course, "Why did The Husband leave one of his bars of soap lying around, from the bathroom that is normally locked?" Because *I* don't use Irish Spring. I like frilly girlie scents. Criminy, my nose is all tickly and sneezey now. Poor Luna. She's so patient and good-natured. I'd have found a hole in a ceiling to hide out for the rest of my life ages ago.

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