My damn head hurts. I've got a stack of books to read and I've got zero interest in reading any of them. I'm also participating in National Novel Writing Month again this year. I have absolutely no idea what I'll be novelling about, but it's sure to be chock full of smart-mouthed southern women who eat a lot and have way too much gratuitous sex with persons who are either rock stars or demons. Oh. And it may or may not contain a chicken. I say this only because that's pretty much how last years NaNoWriMo effort unfolded.
I'm home alone this evening. John's playing darts with the farmers and I'm about to eat a head-ache pill and maybe some wheat thins and veggie dip. Earlier this evening we took a ride to get away from home and my face suddenly got super-ass hot and my stomach turned queasy. We took a detour through McDonalds so I could get a small Coke to cool me down and settle the belly and the voice through the box says, "Welcome to McDonalds! Would you like to try a McRib sandwich?". And John and I did one of those what?!?what?!? double takes and before I knew it, we were sitting in the Target parking lot making faces at the seagulls, stuffing our mouths, wondering if we were the only two people in the world today who actually high-fived over a McRib.