Wash up their bowls, refill, and then, defense: Put on the kettle for yes, Barry's. (Hail My lack of sense in crafting that.) Detail It with a wedge of brie which they share hence. Yes, Tigger's post is in my lap fr'intents, And Peter's on the floor; she hooks sans bail My hand whenas she wants a bite t'avail, Til he gives up, to wander off from thence. The "kitty kurls" toy they've worn out in tour, And she thinks that the ball is hers. I do Not quite agree, and after letting her Extract it three times, I hide it. Where to? She's moping since. Yes, hiding off in poor 'Scuse til, what shall I do? LORD, I need You.
29Aug25d
This lack of sleep since I cannot sleep until the sun sets, yet am only scheduled for third shift, sees some crazy things, like trying to fill the tea *** and stupidly failing to do so, then...well, you get the idea.