I don’t know if we order too much takeout or not enough because the delivery driver at my door last night handed over the food and then peered inside – past the dog and bunny rabbit who’d come to the door to greet him – and asked, “Where’s the squirrel?”
She hasn’t been in the living room watching TV in months, so I can’t figure it out.
Or maybe she’d placed her own takeout order unbeknownst to me. I don’t know what in the hell she’s up to when she’s not gracing me with her furry pumpkin-seed-demanding ass.
Anywho…the deal with my bitchy muse on the last chapter of BotB was that she kept trying to steer me away from the unicorns farting rainbows I’m so fond of and over into angst territory.
And we all know how I feel about that.
But given the general tenor of all Guns N’ Roses songs – and the fact that my OCD will not allow me to stray from using them as chapter titles – we’ll just have to wait and see if I can keep fending her off.
Right now she’s sounding like that Garmin bitch whenever I have to drive through Washington D.C. and she’s insistent upon me going into the carpool lane because my muse doesn’t account for the fact that neither she, nor the various Eric and Sookie’s who reside in my head, do not qualify as additional passengers in the car.