She called an auto garage, they got him out, she was reunited with her beloved pet, yadda, yadda, that's not the real story. The real story is the pet's name -- and no, I'm not making this up! "Mister Cracker Basket Sassy Pants" is what she named her pet boa constrictor.
Because, you know, that's what you'd call a boa constrictor.
...I got nothing, been one, very lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ng day. Long and boring. Because, you know, that's the kind of day you want when you've been fighting a headache all damn day.
I need a winter hat. I need a good, Yukon Territory-worthy winter hat. Pasha pissed on all the winter hats I had (that I minded being seen in public in, that is). So now I have to find a new one. A warm one.
I also need a shower. Showers are good, especially when you want to smell purty, like a rose. Or when you want to write about the fact that you are in need of a good, hot, sudsy, shower, with the faucets turned up high, like one of those power washers used to clean the sides of building structures.
We interrupt this fun, witty, clever, one-way banter to bring you this latest bulletin on the only cat in America to have survived spay surgery, the now-famous "Pasha":
She is doing well.
And now, back to our story...
What was I talking about? Oh yeah, I think I said something about going home??? I have a home to go to??? Wait... you mean I don't have to venture out to Meijer's to get milk and/or gas, I can really go home????
Now why would I want to do that when I can sit here at the computer and prolong the headache some more???