...then my husband will leave me and frankly who can blame him. Because it is a Herculean task that takes anywhere between fourteen to seventy eight minutes, I must dedicate this evening to this task instead of writing. Besides which, I wrote yesterday's with half a brain and it shows. It barely makes sense- maybe I need to space this thing out more. Perhaps writing every day is an exercise in senselessness.
However, in the spirit of the world's most insipid journal idea ever (one line a day for five years, come on) I'll say this: Bug is six months old to the day. How has six months passed, etc etc and similar sentiments. We hung out with Juniper Rose, one of Bug's best friends. Trader Joes run (saw all our friends). Tasting Station out of commission so we didn't get a food sample- bad luck- mom was looking forward to it. She wore a hot pink hipster jumpsuit with a synched middle, Amelia in produce gave compliments. Jumsuit arrived in mail from cousin Ali three days ago. Best outfit yet.
Six months old! One Half! Point Five!
I also have to clean the Cuisinart.
God help Me.