the oregano plant has died, but the sourdough starter lives on

i should get it by now, one would think. i should just know that when i walk to the store to get ice cream to accompany a quiet night of quilting, i will actually end up drunk and urban golfing with obnoxious drunk boys. duh.

my life is bound to be summed up in some eulogy someday by cockeyed cliches. and i am okay with that.

my life as it is happening in these very moments is ridculous. i could not script it better. i am okay with that, too.

what i am NOT okay with, however, is the fucking blister on my hand that was born as the secret hole in my oven mitt sabotaged my skin... but i should have known the universe would not allow my schezwan salmon experience to be completely unhindered. duh.

and so begins chapter 628 of my life.