||[Nov. 11th, 2016|07:31 pm]
she will be the one to file for divorce (if so, then I'm with I'm not sure when I'll reach the post-grief stage of acceptance, but my pre-grief stage of snarkiness is already back. My most recent snarky thought has been that, if the stress of being First Lady overwhelms Melania and she lets herself go, we might get to witness the first-ever White House divorce. The Donald is not known for holding on to wives who slip too much below his rating of ten. She is getting on in years, after all, at least by his standards. And I wonder what she'll think when Vladimir Putin has sleepovers at the White House and Donald spends a bromantic night with him? Shocking! (I'm sure Vlad could do better!) So maybe |h>er.)
But that is neither here nor there. Here there was a but briefly mild day, so I only got to keep the windows open for a little while. I'd like to have them open right now, as Portia has just used the litter box, and it is not pleasant. The smell is reminding of the election again.
After I've cleaned the box (and washed my hands thoroughly) I have to fix myself something for dinner. This is one of those nights when I can't make up my mind. Thing is, one of the supermarkets has some stuff on sale this week that I'm looking forward to, and I'm wishing that I had that stuff right now. It's making the choices I do have seem rather pallid by comparison, which is not stimulating my appetite. Maybe I'll just skip dinner and have a big bowl of popcorn with lots of butter again.
Despite my best intentions, I still haven't gotten around to doing any raking, and the newly green back lawn is vanishing under a strew of dead leaves. I do like the leaves, as I find autumnal decay to be romantically morose, much like myself, but the poor grass really does need some sunshine. I'm just a bad grass-dad, I guess.
Oy, I absolutely must deal with that litter box now, lest I pass out!