My Boss Called Me Boho and Other Quick Musings
Yeah, she called me "boho". Something about an article in the Globe that talked about different "looks" women choose. She said that it was So me! Because of my vintage clothes and neverending supply of Mary Janes. I don't know that I'd pigeonhole myself that way, but I think it's cool that my boss is reading articles in the Globe and thinking of me. Even if it is mostly just my clothes she's thinking of.
A good excuse if you get pulled over for "weaving" and "crossing the yellow line" is not: "Gee officer, I was twisting the tops off of my Oreo Double Stufs and putting them together to make a Quadruple Stuf." Even if it is true.
Origami is harder than it looks.
Doubling the number of cat litter boxes available for cat elimination (that's what it said on the box--"elimination". As if my cats are in the lightning round of a game show or something...) may halve the chances of said cats eliminating on the bathroom rug, but it also quadruples the amount of annoying litter granules scattered about the floor.
The secret ingrediant in my pulled chicken is almost always Jack Daniels.
That is all.