The Chickens are out. Nails are gone. What's worse is Mr Monkey is just slumped on the floor next to the cabinets watching the havoc unfold. Some days there is just not much one can do.
What happened, some may ask. Unclear. Another attack of the Wednesdays. But nothing really more than that. And yet this week, just couldn't keep the chickens in. Ironically (or maybe not. I blame Alanis for confusing this issue) yesterday I was proud that Tubthumping was my theme song (for the chorus, not for the drinking part) and now, well I'm not really sure about getting back up. I mean honestly, I get knocked down, I get up again but is it possible that they're never going to keep me down? Unclear.
I can say I'm a bit done, eyes glazed over, after today. The only solution seems to be to go to bed and hope to awake, chickens in their cages and the law school bats put in their, well, whatever baseball bats are kept in. Throw me a freakin bone.
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