What They Don't Tell You About a Three-Day Weekend

Tuesday is your new Monday. The phone doesn't stop ringing, and you feel bad about not blogging on Monday when you had all this free time but thought, "Screw it, I'm on vacation and I'll post something really substantial tomorrow." And then your "something really substantial" is this, a post lamenting how you cannot post anything substantial because you spend your Monday off eating pizza and chocolate chip cookies and then bloating so much from all this food consumption that you took off like that house in Up. 

So yeah. I didn't blog yesterday because I was too busy floating in the atmosphere following an hour-and-a-half long stint at a pizza buffet. Gideon was on our balcony calling out to me, "Sam, Sam, come back! Can I give BJ two wet foods today?" Of course I was too busy blimping it up to deny this request, meaning that my cat will now expect two wet foods tonight when Gideon is at work and not around to hear BJ meow incessantly for hours. 

On the bright side, I made friends with lots of birds. (Yes, they do purposefully poop on your car window after you've left the car wash. I envy their sass.)