I have been idly slapping at some mosquitoes on another blog. Their tiny beaks can't break my skin, and except for all of that annoying buzzing, they can do me no harm. Still, there was a time, once upon a, where I would have settled in like a dark storm front and insulted people until they chewed at their own flesh to try to get to me.
Those days are long gone, methinks. People are stupider, more boring, and just plain no fun anymore. Here, I just mostly delete and/or ban, and other places where they gather are as easy to avoid as a Great Dane turd in the middle of a freshly mown lawn. You can't hear them talking about you, if your ears aren't there to listen.
And besides, Sparrow sent us a gingerbread house from L.L. Bean's, though we have left the shrink-wrap on it to keep Mister and Miss Pokey Fingers away from it. Or me, with the munchies. I think we have decided to eat it, but probably after Christmas. Maybe New Years Eve.
Gosh, what an unexpected, thoughtful gift giver she is. The wife and I and the kids just sat around it on the table when it first arrived, staring at it. I'm sure they were all picking out what part to munch on. I know I was.
Egads, Nat just laid a stink bomb in my room, and I'm choking. Now she's in the bathroom grunting and giving birth to new Muslims. I gotta go light some matches before I die...